


Adrift

by Nerdanel



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: AU, Drug Use, Gen, and they are still as horrible as ever, disturbing imagery, the Union - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 66,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdanel/pseuds/Nerdanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankenstein finds himself stumbling over an old, haunted mansion while on the run from a criminal organisation -- a modern remix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Princetown

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I starting a new story when I have another to write? I don't know. This shouldn't be too long, I guess, though it is a little ambitious on my part.
> 
> (Note: I have taken several artistic liberties with this, so if anyone feels like correcting me about something I got wrong about England, feel free to do so. I can only research so much sitting here in India and never having been to England.)

It all started with an innocuous advertisement in the local newspaper while he was staying at a hotel in Princetown. England wasn’t the choice destination for a holiday in his opinion – a little too expensive when he was on a run, but better here than wandering the forests of Eastern Europe, utterly lost. Though, he supposed, sipping tea and glancing out of the window that looked over to the Dartmoor Prison, he might have to go there after all if the Organisation kept on pursuing him.

 

He closed the newspaper with a sigh and drained the rest of his tea. It sounded too good to be true, this proposition, and Frankenstein was a cautious, methodical man. Would it be worth a risk to take a jaunt to the countryside, working as a mere caretaker in an old mansion? It would be secluded enough to suit his purpose and he could even –

 

Well, no use wondering idly when he could just as well go and take a look. It wasn’t as if he had much to do in any case.

 

The ad had given a London address for contact purposes, but no local address appended in case there was someone willing to take up the job. He went down and used a public telephone for calling the London office, and was greeted by a cheerful-sounding receptionist. He remembered to put on his best posh accent – he wasn’t English, but he had enough skills to masquerade as one – and had a short conversation with her. Yes, he had called the right place, and yes, there was an opening for the job of managing the estate of a certain person. Yes, it was located in Devon itself and yes, he would need to contact the local address to get further information.

 

Frankenstein brought up the GPS app in his phone to mark the correct location of local office, by the name of Emsworth Holdings Inc. Frankenstein had raised an eyebrow at the name; it seemed to crawl straight out of a Wodehouse book, though he doubted it would be anything like _that_.

 

It wasn’t too far, so he chose to walk and was there fifteen minutes before appointment time. The office was built into an old building and the street was mostly deserted around it, giving Frankenstein a feeling of foreboding. The sun had sunken a little lower and the sky started turning crimson, announcing the herald of a chilly winter evening. He drew his coat tighter around himself and stepped on the stairs, deciding to enter even though he was a little early. It couldn’t hurt – it wasn’t as if the business was booming. It was quiet, very quiet.

 

The door was made of expensive wood when he got to the door of the office. He knocked on it and it was opened, leading him into an opulent interior, lit with ambient lighting that gave the impression as if he’d set foot into the pages of history instead of the office of a realtor. There was only one man there: aged and slightly bent, but his eyes gleamed with shrewdness and Frankenstein didn’t miss the calculation that passed through them the moment he set them upon his face.

 

“Mr. Frank Lee, is it?” He inquired, stepping aside to let Frankenstein enter.

 

“Yes, I called your London office.”

 

“Yes, yes, do come in.”

 

Frankenstein did as bade and stepped on the plush Persian rug, feeling his shoes sink into the softness. There were two red high-backed chairs near the fireplace with a table in between them. A decanter rested on the polished surface of the wood, with two whiskey tumblers next to it. The walls were lined with bookshelves and there was a proper table and chairs on one side, but the man did not head for that. Instead, he picked his way to one of the comfortable looking chairs and took a seat, gesturing for Frankenstein to do the same.

 

He poured for both of them and slid the glass towards Frankenstein, taking a generous sip from his own and sighed. “To be honest, Mr. Lee, I’m glad you turned up today. I was beginning to lose hope that I’d ever get to settle this matter.”

 

Frankenstein tasted the liquor, acknowledging silently that it was good (and probably not poisoned) and tilted his head a little in question.

 

“As you can see, this is no normal job interview. There is a house here up in Dartmoor that belongs to a gentleman that I work for. He has moved to the States a while back and the management of his estate has fallen into my hands. I’m getting on in the years, as you can no doubt see.” He smiled deprecatingly. “I need someone young and hardworking who can go live there in my stead.”

 

“I see,” Frankenstein said. “This is still highly unusual.”

 

“Oh, there is a contract, and I do need your information and resume, you see, but I need to know you personally before I can even get to the paperwork.”

 

“Personally?” He asked. He needed a hideout, a place to rest and fade away from the public life for a while, and this sounded like a golden opportunity, but Frankenstein wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t want to walk from one trap into another.

 

“The gentleman I work for is very dear to me and I don’t want to leave his home into the hands of a man I can’t even trust,” the old man answered, taking another sip and looking at the fireplace. It wasn’t lit, so that must be an ingrained habit.

 

“And you couldn’t find the locals to do it for you?”

 

The old man glanced at him, eyes sharp. “No, because they are a superstitious lot and would do anything to avoid it. I’ll be upfront with you, Mr. Lee, there are many rumours surrounding that place and if you choose to go live there, a many people will try to dissuade you. You mustn’t let it bother you.”

 

“I don’t believe in superstition, but I find that there’s usually something when people talk, even if they are mistaken.”

 

“Quite, quite,” the old man agreed readily enough. “The house I’m about to send you to is rather isolated, and was once the scene of a rather gruesome massacre, back in the medieval times. Before that, a lot of people used to live in the surrounding areas, but now, none are left. It’s eerie, so people talk.”

 

Frankenstein lifted his glass and took a draught. On the face of it, everything seemed to be all right, but his gut screamed at him. He finished his drink and gave the man in front of him a slow smile. “That’s fine,” he said, decided. “I don’t mind a job like that. I’m not easily shaken anyway – this might be the perfect work for me.”

 

“Excellent,” the man grinned, tossed his head back to empty his drink as well.

 

The meeting was over half an hour later after Frankenstein handed over his (forged) papers and Mr. Emsworth – for that was his name – looked them over. Things went quickly afterwards: Frankenstein was to start working within a week, his pay was good enough to raise eyebrows but Mr. Emsworth insisted. A car would escort him to his new house and he would get necessary supplies every week through the same. Their contract covered a period of twelve months, and it could be renewed annually subsequently.

 

It was ridiculously simple and Frankenstein allowed it to happen. He half-expected to stumble on the base of some criminal organisation operating in the bowels of his new house. If so, he was going to have fun uprooting them. It would serve as a good learning experience when he had to inevitably face the men he was running from.

 

Therefore, that evening when he stepped out into the streets of Princetown, Frankenstein found himself full of a sense of self-satisfaction. Emsworth might have thought he had Frankenstein eating out of the palm of his hand, but that wasn’t the case. And soon, he hoped, it would be the other way round.

 

* * *

 

The car picked him up at nine sharp, and the woman who billed him at the counter gave him a consternated look. He had stayed in the hotel long enough to get friendly with the staff, and he knew that he was easy on the eyes, prompting enough female (and occasional male) attention to facilitate conversation. They knew where he was heading off to, and none of them seemed to approve. Frankenstein, however, was a student of science and as such, he had a natural disinclination towards believing in the paranormal.

 

“It’s okay, Lydia,” he said soothingly, counting his change and pocketing it. “One year isn’t a long time, and I’m allowed to come back for a visit then.”

 

She sniffled a little, turning away, and Frankenstein took that as a cue to leave. He picked up his suitcase – the only piece of luggage he owned on this island – and walked out of the tiny hotel he’d called his home for the better part of this month.

 

It was a quaint and old little vehicle: a Citroën probably, but he couldn’t be sure and he wasn’t concerned enough to ask about it. It was, however, a little troublesome to get into it. The suitcase went in the back and the chauffer drove away without a single comment once he was properly seated. Frankenstein tried to make idle conversation, but the man didn’t even seem to hear it, so he resisted further urges and sat back, watching the scenery drift away.

 

Princetown faded from view soon enough and the path grew more and more hilly, though the altitude never rose much. Frankenstein could feel his ears pop a little every time they climbed higher. As far as he could see, there were crags and tors, grasslands in the distance, and probably the bogs he’d heard so much about. He could see tiny rivers cutting through the land far away, bleeding life into the rocky earth and causing greenery to spout along its banks.

 

Clouds drifted lazily along the horizon, stealing away precious sunlight and soon the wind grew chilly. Frankenstein rolled the window up and settled back into his seat, closing his eyes for a while. His mind wanted to dwell on the past, now that he felt a little bit secure in his safety. He had imagined that Emsworth might be an agent of the Organisation, but why would he lure Frankenstein away to a deserted place? He could have poisoned Frankenstein the day they’d met. Why go through so much trouble when they had already located him?

 

Still. He had covered his tracks well, but even this driver could be a hired gun. Anybody could be. Frankenstein breathed softly through his mouth and closed his eyes tighter. It didn’t pay to be so paranoid. He didn’t want to die – not because he was afraid, no. He wanted to take these people down. They had lured him and his mind into working for them, and then he’d realised just how misguided he had been. His brilliance had been exploited and –

 

The car came to an abrupt stop and jolted Frankenstein out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked out of the window. They were smack in the middle of _nowhere_ , and there was a horse carriage standing a little away from where he sat. Frankenstein blinked again, because the last he checked, this wasn’t the nineteenth century.

 

“You’ve to go the rest of the way in that,” the driver said at length in a thick accent. “Get off.”

 

Frankenstein ambled out of the car in a daze, barely even noticing that the driver had chucked his suitcase out too. He turned around when he noticed the hum of the car’s engine and watched it drive away. The carriage still stood there like a sentinel and its driver had a hat that obscured his face from view. Frankenstein had liked his gothic literature just as much as any other, but he had no idea when he’d shifted genres from crime thriller to gothic horror.

 

“Are you going to stand there all day?” The coachman rumbled then, startling Frankenstein.

 

“No, sorry,” Frankenstein replied and picked up his suitcase. The carriage was made of wood and it had no windows. So now Frankenstein had no way of knowing where he would be going. A sliver of regret started to worm its way through his heart, making it heavy in his chest even as he clambered inside and shut the door.

 

The coachman opened the little window at his end and peered at him, giving him a gap-toothed smile peeking from between his bushy beard. “Strap in, lad. We’re in for the long ride.”

 

“How long will it take?” Frankenstein checked his watch in the dim light. It was almost one in the afternoon.

 

“We’ll get there about nightfall is all I can say.” That said, the man shut the window and the carriage became dark.

 

Frankenstein opened his mouth, then thinking better of it, closed it and settled in for a nap. He could have escaped this any time he wanted, but where would he go in this wilderness anyway? Whether for good or for bad, he’d taken his chance and wherever that took him, he would deal with it.


	2. In the Middle of Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the very first day of his job, Frankenstein runs into his true nemesis.

True to his word, the coachman deposited him at the gates of an old but imposing looking manor at moonrise. The manor looked more like a castle from where he stood, surrounded by a dense patch of trees and an old moat – it had been filled in a long time ago. There was a large iron gate that kept something out, or something in, it was hard to tell just yet. Frankenstein yawned and stretched a little, barely paying attention to the galloping of the horses as the carriage drove away, almost immediately. That man did not wish to linger.

 

No matter. He had the keys to the place and so he unlocked it. Couldn’t be worse than what he’d already been through, so what if he was going into a spooky castle at night? It was hard to be scared when he’d seen the depths of depravity humanity was capable of. What could a ghost or a demon do to him that his fellow men hadn’t done already?

 

He picked up his suitcase once he’d unlocked the door and began walking to the front door. It had to be at least half a mile from the gates and it gave him time to appreciate the natural beauty of the place. The woods looked black in the faint moonlight and he could hear the soft sounds of life from within it. If something unnatural dwelled here, it did not harm the animals and insects. That was good to know.

 

By the time he reached the front door, Frankenstein realised that he’d pysched himself into buying into the entire supernatural beings haunting the place. He shook his head – he had better things to be concerned about than some old wives’ tale. Though, he supposed, if he had the time to be paranoid about this, that meant he was feeling a lot more safe from the Organisation.

 

Frankenstein smiled and pushed his way inside, shutting the door behind him. A single lamp was burning on the wall and it was only then that he realised that there was no electricity here. He stared at his phone in dismay. How long had the previous landlord been gone that the power was switched off? Frankenstein pursed his lips and walked further in, only to realise that there had never even been any installation of electric wiring or any bulbs and such.

 

It gave him a pause.

 

This was a little more complicated than he had previously assumed then. He wasn’t allowed to leave the grounds for an entire year, so there was no way he could get the place electrified. He brought his phone up again and weighed his choices. There was no one he could contact, or would want to, anyway, so what was the point. He turned it off and pocketed it, venturing further inside.

 

The house was...filthy.

 

There was at least a few kgs of dust settled on every horizontal surface, and it had burrowed into every available crevice and curve of the furniture. He could see cobwebs in every corner and the wallpaper had faded into an indistinguishable pattern a long time ago.

 

This was a _nightmare_.

 

He could feel a deep itch starting just below his skin at the idea of all this dirt and filth. That old man wasn’t wrong: he had been completely incapable of taking care of one house! He placed one hand on his nose and mouth and trudged onwards, picking up a lamp that was lying nearby. He lit it up and climbed the grand stairs just in front of him. The foyer had only the stairs and a few doors to the sides of it, probably entry points for the servants of the house, and he was one now, wasn’t he?

 

Shrugging, he continued upstairs. Dust billowed from the carpet with every step he took and he added it to his mental list of to-do things. Ghosts and demons vanished from his mind and the entire focus was now centred on his true enemy: absence of cleanliness.

 

He opened one of the doors and saw a fairly decent sized room, complete with a bed and large window to look out of. He placed his suitcase to the side, took his shirt off and tied it around his mouth and nose and then tackled the bed first. Taking off the sheets, he closed his eyes to let the dust settle. He pushed the sheets down, bundled them up and put them to the side. He patted the mattress down until he was sufficiently satisfied. He threw the pillows down on the same pile and laid down, feeling unexpectedly exhausted.

 

It had been a long day, and that wasn’t even counting the bizarre method of getting here. He had become a regular Jonathan Hawker at this point. Now, if only some creepy vampire was living here, the universe would achieve perfect symmetry.

 

* * *

 

The next day had him scrambling for cleaning supplies (there were some, not adequate, but they would do), food (the pantry was well-stocked) and water (there was a well in the back of the house and all equipment for drawing water was well in place). All of it looked freshly placed, so Frankenstein wondered if someone was asked to prepare for his stay here. Was it the shady coachman? The reticent chauffer? Or Emsworth himself?

 

Or maybe he had even more people at his bidding, arranging supplies in the middle of nowhere but not bothering to _clean up a little_.

 

Fuming a little, Frankenstein worked his way through the morning, having had a small breakfast of bread and cheese. By the time evening arrived, he was sweaty, grimy and more than a little ravenous. It was sad that he had to draw water from the well to take a bath, then heat it himself over a coal stove. Somewhere along the way, he had stopped feeling like he was living in the present and found himself contained a little pocket of space where time had stopped around the middle-ages.

 

He dined on cold meat sandwiches and struggled not to fall asleep on the dining table. Still, he had made good progress with the cleaning, so the fatigue he felt was the good kind. And he had found spare linen and upholstery in the cupboards, so it wasn’t a total loss. He had explored the entire left side of the castle. It was huge, yes, but that generally meant a lot of large rooms and not a lot of small rooms.

 

_Small mercies_ , he thought around a mouthful of bread.

 

There wasn’t even a hint of modernisation around the house. And there really was nothing around for _miles and miles_. He could see the remains of huts from times gone by and surmised that this must have been what Emsworth had meant. He hadn’t felt like exploring them yet, however.

 

Once his dinner was finished, he snuffed out the candle and walked upstairs to his room where fresh sheets awaited his weary body. He was carrying a little lamp with him, and that was why he stopped short of running into a small figure at the top of the stairs.

 

Frankenstein did not shriek or drop his lamp, but it was a near thing. He brought his lamp up with shaky fingers, trying desperately not to think of a certain game he had played a few years ago where the protagonist was stuck carrying a little lamp of his own through a spooky manor.

 

The weak yellow glow of the lamp illuminated the spectre soon enough, however, and Frankenstein was glad to know that it wasn’t some deformed monster, but a child. A child no more than ten years old, pale as the moon and almost wraith-like. His eyes seemed to glow crimson in the lamplight. Frankenstein lowered the lamp and shadows engulfed the child’s face once again.

 

It had been a terribly beautiful face, beset by melancholy.

 

Something inside Frankenstein’s chest ached and he clutched at his lamp, wondering how a child could have wandered in here? There was no way he was some kid squatting – he was dressed too nicely for that – and he couldn’t be an actual inhabitant. That left only _one_ alternative...

 

“Uh,” he began uncertainly.

 

“You’re staying in my room,” the child spoke in a soft voice.

 

Frankenstein raised the lamp again. There was no anger or petulance on his face, only a faint line of distress around his mouth.

 

“Ah, forgive me, I did not know.” He had no idea how to navigate this situation anymore.

 

The child turned around, apparently satisfied and seemed to melt into the shadows. When Frankenstein extended his hand and the lamp with it, there was no sign of him. There weren’t even footsteps on the ground where the child had stood. Feeling cold all over, Frankenstein rushed to the room and took his belongings out of it. He’d rather sleep on a dusty mattress again than deal with disembodied children.

 

His heart refused to calm down even as he buried his face in his arms and lay very, very still on the mattress. So were the rumours true then? There really was a ghost here? But it had not tried to harm him in any way. It hadn’t even appeared until it had noticed Frankenstein’s intentions to violate its sanctuary another day in a row. It had been _gracious_ enough to let Frankenstein sleep in its bed.

 

Could it be called an evil spirit when it had not harmed Frankenstein so far? Spirits were not bound to human nature of trickery and deceit. Or so he told himself, at any rate.

 

The next day’s dawn brought with it frost and wind picking up speed, and Frankenstein felt completely not rested. He could barely sleep last night and he was wary of going outside and resuming his activities. What if the child resented his attempts to clean this place up?

 

But what if the child had liked him cleaning up the place?

 

Impossible to guess – best to get to work. Frankenstein dragged himself out of bed and had a small breakfast; he didn’t have the appetite for more just now. His enthusiasm was certainly dampened. He did not see the child again, though he had made sure to explore every room. Even the one he’d been evicted from. He had remained only long enough to clean it up more thoroughly before hightailing it out of there.

 

The remaining days of that week passed by idly and by the time the coachman returned with supplies, Frankenstein had made the castle nearly spotless. There were things he couldn’t fix: like the wallpaper in the foyer. It was the only place that was relatively modernised, and even that must have been sometime in the nineteenth century or thereabouts.

 

He walked to the gate where the coachman was unloading the supplies. Frankenstein watched in silence awhile, before he felt that he might as well bring the subject up.

 

“There is a kid living here.”

 

The coachman paused and gave him a look from the corner of his eye, most of his face still obscured by the hat and now with the addition of a muffler, wrapped around his mouth. All he could see were his eyes, and they too were concealed by the shadows.

 

“Is he a ghost?” Frankenstein pressed when the coachman refused to be forthcoming on his own.

 

The coachman paused momentarily, and then spoke, “I do not know of such things.”

 

Frankenstein wanted to call bullshit on that, but his situation was tenuous at best here and he wouldn’t want to anger his only link to humanity. Not if he wanted to make requests of this man.

 

The coachman handed him the last of the bags, but he didn’t turn around to leave as quickly as he had before. He tugged on the rim of his hat and gave Frankenstein a meditative look. “Nothing evil dwells in this place,” he stated as if it was a matter of fact and nodded.

 

“That’s really good to know,” Frankenstein said, thinking that the sarcasm in his voice could probably cut through butter like a hot knife, but the coachman wasn’t fazed. He tipped his hat and walked away, his business concluded and left Frankenstein to his devices again.

 

Frankenstein was unable to gain any insight into this strange job, but one thing was confirmed: there really was something here, even though he hadn’t seen it since. He would have thought that the child had been a figment of his overwrought imagination, but as the coachman said, there was something in the house, despite the fact that he did not perceive it as _evil_.

 

Well, Frankenstein reasoned, carrying the supplies back to the house, he wouldn’t have appreciated waking up to some vampire sucking the blood out of him, or being seduced and eaten by an incubus while he wasn’t looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's coming along pretty well, I suppose. I can't finish it this weekend (the story is only growing larger by the minute), but I'll try to keep a good pace, I guess.


	3. A Time to Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kindness is a habit Frankenstein has left far behind, and it comes to haunt him at most inappropriate times.

Frankenstein came awake with a start, his body drenched with sweat and his heart beating a mile a minute. His face smarted and when he swiped his finger against his cheeks, it came off wet. He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his chest and trying to control his breathing. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth unpleasantly and cold was beginning to seep in through his clothes. Burying his face in his hands, he let out a small groan, ignoring the sting of his wounds. It hadn’t happened for a while, and therefore he was at a loss for what to do. So he just sat there, motionless and hugging his knees with a bruising grip.

 

And he would have continued in this vein for a while yet, had it not been for a faint sound of the door unlocking and the room getting flooded with lamplight from the corridor. Frankenstein raised his head, perplexed, and saw that it was the wispy child, hovering at the threshold. His face was once again hidden in the darkness, but Frankenstein could see the crimson of his eyes, glowing faintly.

 

“S-sorry,” Frankenstein said, feeling his heartbeat pick up again. “Did I disturb you?”

 

The child shook his head and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with his will alone. Frankenstein swallowed. The child kept on walking until he was right next to Frankenstein’s bed, holding a glass of water that Frankenstein hadn’t noticed before. He thrust it out in Frankenstein’s direction, a slightly hopeful expression on his face. Perplexed, but not ungrateful, Frankenstein took the water and downed it in one go. He had been really thirsty.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured and took a deep, calming breath.

 

The child blinked at him and then in front of Frankenstein’s very eyes, he started to become less substantial. Fading right into the air. Almost impulsively, Frankenstein reached out and grabbed the child’s arm – it felt very real in his palm – and stopped him from leaving.

 

Frankenstein had had time to consider the matter at length. The child – this creature – seemed to dwell within this castle, but it hadn’t lifted a single finger to harm Frankenstein in any manner. Whether it – he approved of Frankenstein’s attempts to clean the place up, he didn’t know. He hadn’t bothered to stop it, so Frankenstein could interpret it in his favour. And now the child had brought him a glass of water – an attempt to soothe him, perhaps, when Frankenstein was in considerable distress. He could not parse it any other way than _this_.

 

“Wait,” he said gently, squeezing that soft arm within his grasp.

 

The figure solidified within moments and curious red eyes looked up at him, waiting patiently. Frankenstein let the arm go and folded his hands in his lap. He had great many questions, but he did not deem them important to ask just yet. He also needed to focus on anything other than his nightmares. Anything at all. So:

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The child seemed to consider this before answering, “...Raizel.”

 

What a strange name, thought Frankenstein but refrained from commenting, since he had no right to say that to someone else. “My name,” he said instead, “is Frank – Frankenstein.” It seemed foolish to lie to this entity, and who knew, if he could read his mind or find out through other means, he might just get angry. “I used to have a different name in the past, but it was taken from me. I gave myself a new name in place of what they had forced upon me.”

 

“My true name was also taken from me,” Raizel replied in a solemn voice. “So I took a new one, as well.”

 

Emotion swelled within Frankenstein’s throat and he felt a deep urge to reach out and grasp that thin arm again. He found a kindred spirit here, so far from home ( _but where was home_ ), and one that wasn’t even human.

 

A forgotten relic of the past this child had to be, abandoned and left to wander alone here for who knew how long? It was pitiable. It made Frankenstein want to reach out and hold the child close, because wasn’t that what human instincts dictated? Protecting smaller, adorable things that needed it? Raizel was small, swallow-skinned and thin-limbed, and all his edges were blurring, as if he was slowly vanishing, becoming more transient by the minute. If this child was a demon, he was surely a very miserable one.

 

“You should rest,” Raizel said abruptly, voice cleaving through the silence that had fallen.

 

Had he sensed Frankenstein’s thoughts? And if he could, was he also able to see what was hidden inside Frankenstein’s heart? His memories? Could he tell why Frankenstein had woken up in the middle of the night, his face all scratched-up by his own hands? He should be angered by such a gross violation of his privacy, but all he could muster was hollow grief. The child averted his eyes: a token admission of his guilt, perhaps?

 

Frankenstein sighed and lied down, covering his eyes with his arm and ignored the lingering presence in his room. It soon dissolved into nothingness and sleep claimed Frankenstein, but this time he was no longer plagued by his nightmares.

 

He woke up next morning, aching and drained, just not as much as usual. When things got bad, Frankenstein would end up unable to sit up and do anything even remotely normal for hours after waking up. So there was a plus side having an inhuman entity reading your mind and distracting you from your personal demons.

 

He chuckled mirthlessly and sat up, preparing himself for another day of endless chores. At least they would help him take his mind off other, more unpleasant things. Shrugging on fresh clothes, he went through his morning ablutions and then made his way downstairs to the kitchen area.

 

Sunlight was already streaming in from the opened windows and the air smelled like fresh frost, tingling his nose. He took a deep, refreshing breath and rolled his sleeves up, prepared to clean up the kitchen further and then make himself a quick meal. However, as soon as he ventured further into the spacious interior of the kitchen, he noticed a small figure lurking in a shadowed corner. The unfamiliarity of that made Frankenstein’s heart race momentarily until realisation dawned. He took a quick breath and tried not to glower at the diminutive figure.

 

However, the child – Raizel – looked so sorry that Frankenstein’s anger drained from his mind pretty much instantly, replacing it with sadness. It wasn’t this child’s fault that he was so broken, was it? He shouldn’t be taking it out on him, of all the things. The smile came to him then, unfabricated, and he bent down next to him and bit his lip.

 

“You can read my mind, can’t you?” He asked, choosing to be straightforward. It couldn’t hurt, not at this point.

 

Raizel nodded – a tiny motion and his eyes clouded with remorse, making Frankenstein’s stomach wrench.

 

“Can’t help it?”

 

Another hesitant nod and Raizel backed away, as if he was afraid of what Frankenstein – a human – would think of him. Why did he care so much?

 

If Frankenstein was honest with himself – and he mostly was – he had long known that his life had somehow careened wildly off-path somewhere along the way when he was in his teens. His desperate attempts to liken it to other, more comprehensible things always gave him something to anchor himself to. This, however, had no parallel to anything he could think of, and he felt stumped and helpless, and as such, unable to formulate a correct plan of action. There was something so fragile and helpless about this particular existence, and Frankenstein had no idea how to comfort it. That was his first instinct when it came to Raizel, after all. A desire to shield and soothe.

 

How strange that it took a non-human creature to awaken his long-forgotten humanity.

 

* * *

 

Frankenstein prepared a simple meal of meat and bread, complemented by cheese and tea for breakfast, his appetite rejuvenated all of a sudden. Crimson eyes watched him from the chair in the middle of the room, placed behind the giant wooden table where the countless servants from the days gone by must have worked. He had tugged on Raizel’s hand and asked him to join for a meal, and his request had not been denied, much to his delight.

 

He had not paused to ask whether Raizel could eat, but since he hadn’t refused, Frankenstein felt safe enough to cook for two. He placed the food in front of Raizel first and then took a seat next to him, digging into his portion quietly. Raizel followed suit, watching him with curious eyes and then mimicking his actions perfectly, but with far more elegance than what Frankenstein could have displayed himself.

 

They took their meal in complete silence and Frankenstein was gratified to note that Raizel had not left anything behind. He had cleaned his plate like a good child and cradled the teacup elegantly in his small hand, drinking it with great interest, glancing every now and then outside the window. Frankenstein had watched him out of the corner of his eye the entire time, noting what he seemed to like more than the others, and it looked like that tea was an instant hit.

 

He filed the information away for later and gathered the plates to rinse them off. Then he prepared more tea in a teapot and placed it next to Raizel, refilling his cup first.

 

“If you want more, just pour more for yourself, okay?” He instructed, demonstrating by holding the handle and tilting a little to serve more of the hot liquid. Then he covered it with a thick cloth to retain its warmth. Oh, what wouldn’t he give for a thermos or an electric kettle right now.

 

Raizel had watched him with rapt attention so far, and he gave another nod, showing that he had followed his lesson and resumed his tea drinking.

 

“If you run out of tea and still want more,” Frankenstein continued, feeling something like affection swell within him. “Call for me, okay?”

 

“Okay.” That elicited an answer and Frankenstein smiled at the child – who knew how long it had been since someone smiled at him? – before leaving him to it.

 

When Frankenstein was off polishing those large windows, he felt a renewed sense of energy, like a job well done and he often caught himself smiling at odd intervals at nothing in particular. How had one night changed so much? How had he gone from feeling vulnerable and exposed to wanting _this_?

 

He had to remember: the child was not truly a child. It must be centuries old, and it only held the appearance of a child. Maybe it was even an elaborate ruse to trick him into lowering his guard – but, he thought, to what end? He hadn’t yet had any indication as to what Raizel was capable of, other than being able to walk around in shadows and read minds. The thought was sobering nonetheless and he raised his guard again, frowning at the loss of that good feeling from before.

 

He wrung out the dirty rag into the bucket nearby and then carried it back outside, throwing away the muddy water and refilling it again. The sun had climbed to its zenith by now and he should probably get started on lunch, since he did have another mouth to feed. If he had been by himself, he might have skipped the meal, but there was someone waiting for him...

 

Frankenstein made his way back to the kitchen and found Raizel exactly where he had left him, sitting on a small wooden chair, his attention totally captured by the window that opened into the garden, and the teacup held in his hands, still just as delicately. Frankenstein lifted the kettle, pleased despite himself to note that it was almost empty. He put the water on boil, found more tea leaves and set them aside, before preparing for lunch. Now that he wasn’t alone, he wondered if he should ask for some fresh fruits from the coachman next time. Make some new things, experiment and find out what they liked best? He was a decent cook – he had lived on his own for quite some time, so it wouldn’t be too difficult for him.

 

He could already feel the shift in his priorities, and though he tried to not feel affected by it, that was nearly impossible to do. He told himself that it was inevitable, that he would find something to occupy himself, even if it was babysitting something that was probably a demon. It couldn’t be a ghost – ghosts didn’t eat, did they?

 

“What are you?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. His hand paused over a carrot – he’d been planning to make a simple stew – and he glanced back to where Raizel was sitting, entirely too quiet.

 

Raizel tore his gaze from the window and regarded Frankenstein with a sombre look. It made him look old – much older than he was supposed to, and if it wasn’t so sad, it would have definitely inflamed Frankenstein’s suspicions. Raizel opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again as if he could not find the words.

 

Why was it that he was so convincing in his every action?

 

“Sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” Frankenstein said, turned away to focus on his carrot. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

 

It did, just a little, but.

 

_But_.

 

“It bothers you,” Raizel said softly. There was barely any strength behind it, and yet it carried over to Frankenstein with perfect clarity. There was pain behind it, tangible enough to cut right through his heart.

 

“Yes,” he admitted and abandoned the carrot. The damn thing could wait and stop him from focusing on what was really important – here and now. “It bothers me, but it bothers you to tell me. So I think we’re at an impasse. You don’t have to tell me.”

 

Raizel’s brow wrinkled slightly. “It does not bother me. But I do not know how to explain.”

 

“Well,” Frankenstein wiped his hands on his apron and took a seat beside him, pouring himself a cup of tea too. “That’s fair enough.”

 

The ensuing silence in which they shared another cup of tea was rather companionable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *falls asleep*


	4. Now Cracks a Noble Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:  
> And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!  
> \-- Horatio, Act V, Scene II, Hamlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been editing this stupid thing for four-five hours. I'm still not 100% happy with it. But if I don't post it now, I can't sleep. If anyone has any criticism (constructive, hopefully) to offer, please do. Oh also, CW: for disturbing imagery.

They fell into a comfortable pattern from that day onwards. Frankenstein would wake up early, make breakfast for Raizel who was always waiting for him in the kitchen. Then he would make tea for both of them and take it outside in the garden – the garden he has been tending to – and they would have tea there. They didn’t speak a lot: the child was reticent by nature and Frankenstein liked the peace and quiet just fine. He could relax here, feel safe and warm in the wintry sunlight every single day – he had never known such a thing before.

 

As for Raizel, all Frankenstein could say about that was that he looked more solid these days. His figure had been translucent to look upon before, but not so much anymore. As if having someone around had breathed life into him just as it had done in Frankenstein’s world.

 

Other than that, his only connection the human world was that enigmatic coachman. Frankenstein had made several requests of him and most of them had been granted, too. A battery-powered cell phone charger was denied, but the desire to have pens and journals to write things down was accepted. Fresh fruits and chocolate were supplied in ample quantities. Newspapers were not. Books were acceptable, but a radio wasn’t. Not that Frankenstein wished to listen to radio, per se, but he had made several random requests to identify a pattern.

 

He was a prisoner in all but name. It wasn’t difficult to see that they wanted to keep him as isolated as possible, but for _what_. They were not a force associated with the Organisation, because again, Frankenstein wouldn’t be drawing breath if they had been. Were they then a part of something that opposed the Organisation?

 

Once that idea took hold of his imagination, it was hard to shake off. It meant that they didn’t have Frankenstein’s best interests at heart; they just wanted to prevent him from falling into the hands of their enemies.

 

However, whenever he looked at Raizel’s serene face, he felt that it didn’t matter that much. He wasn’t scared of death, oh no. There was something scarier than death and he was living it already, and if being with Raizel made that loss lose its edge, it was worth it.

 

It was so difficult to stay mad at the world when there was such peace around him, the calm permeating into his senses and soaking into his bones. Making him forget – and not in a bad way either.

 

* * *

 

 

Frankenstein ventured outside one morning in October, and saw the carriage pull up to the gates. The gate was opened by the coachman – he had a key of his own – and the carriage drew to a halt next to him a few moments later. Frankenstein was about to greet the coachman that the gate of the carriage swung open, revealing a vaguely familiar face. Frankenstein frowned, trying to recall where he had previously seen this man. It was a striking face: dignified and regal, hard to forget.

 

It struck him just as the man frowned back at the lack of courtesy from him. It was that silent chauffer, just dressed in finer clothes! Frankenstein tried not to gape. Back then the man had been dressed in drab clothes, a faded tweed coat and nondescript trousers.

 

“Ah, it’s – you. The guy who drove me from the hotel,” he remarked, staring unabashedly at the new arrival. What had changed? Were they finally going to drop this ridiculous charade?

 

“Yes,” the man replied and regarded him with a thinly-veiled sneer. He seemed easily displeased. “I haven’t forgotten the way you chatted my ear off that time.”

 

Frankenstein felt a little offended. “I did not.”

 

“Now, now,” the coachman lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “I have things to deliver, so if you two could lend me a hand?”

 

They turned away from each other reluctantly. Frankenstein had been itching for a fight for quite some time and this guy seemed like an easy target. However, he needed the coachman’s cooperation still, so he pulled back. However, before they could do as was requested of them, soft footfalls sounded from behind Frankenstein, and a dark head peeked out to look at two men at their doorstep. The effect of his presence on them, Frankenstein noted with great interest, was momentous. They lost their carefully concealed masks and started, eyes wide and hands clenched as if they had never expected this.

 

Were they really not aware of his existence?

 

The chauffer – what else could he call him at this point? It wasn’t as if they had bothered to give him their names and Frankenstein hadn’t either, as a consequence – was the first to step forward and bend down a little in a respectful bow. He said something in an unfamiliar language – the only thing Frankenstein understood was the word _Raizel_. So they _did_ know. They had simply pretended not to know. They had stranded him in a haunted mansion with full knowledge of everything.

 

The thing was, Frankenstein wasn’t even angry knowing this. Just a little annoyed.

 

“You shouldn’t talk as if he’s not here.” Those were the first words Raizel spoke when the chauffer was done speaking. “It’s discourteous.”

 

The man looked appropriately chastised.

 

“Forgive me,” he said and turned to Frankenstein, giving him his full attention for the first time. “I have been incredibly rude when I had no reason to be. I hope you can forgive me – I had a hard time trusting you, but I can see that my worries were unfounded.”

 

“Trusting me with what?”

 

“The job.”

 

Frankenstein knew that he did not mean that _at_ _all_. It wasn’t until he saw the way they treated Raizel that he got a proper grasp on what his real job had been. He wasn’t supposed to stay here to take care of some decrepit castle. No, he had been sent here to care for Raizel.

 

How many more had been sent here in the past for the same reason?

 

How many had abandoned Raizel at the first hint of something unnatural?

 

Somehow, he did not want to know. It seemed painful to even think about.

 

If there was one thing that truly bothered Frankenstein, it was that he had been tricked into caring for someone he would have had any way, if left to his own devices. He pursed his lips and breathed deeply, trying to not let it bother him. It shouldn’t bother him as he had also planned to use Emsworth and co. to his own ends. If only sentimentality hadn’t come into play...

 

Raizel’s face was a little stricken when Frankenstein noticed him. No, it wasn’t _Raizel’s_ fault. He had chosen to care for Raizel by his own will, not because he had been manipulated into it. Raizel had taken the first steps towards him, and Frankenstein had repaid the favour. Raizel hadn’t even asked for anything in return for his kind gesture – indeed, he hadn’t expected anything from this human at all. He had just been kind.

 

And Frankenstein had been kind in turn. But then, it wasn’t a transaction and they weren’t trading something as pure as that around. No, not at all.

 

He smiled at Raizel and shook his head, letting him read his thoughts and see – an irrevocable proof – that whatever happened, Frankenstein harboured no ill-will towards Raizel.

 

Raizel’s eyes lit up a little in response and lowered his gaze, satisfied. Frankenstein gave him a nod and walked back into the house. If Raizel wanted to talk to those two, he should be able to without worrying about Frankenstein’s feelings. They seemed to care for him and that was _enough_. This place had really softened him up, hadn’t it?

 

* * *

 

 

So it made sense that it wasn’t going to last.

 

It had been around two months since he came here, and winter was in full swing by now. The trees were bare and all signs of life had disappeared from the thicket. He could rarely hear birds or insects around him. It was only November but the temperatures had been dropping steadily. It was a good thing that he had a few good warm clothes or else he’d be joining Raizel in the afterlife pretty soon.

 

Still, he kept fires going in the kitchen and his room, when he needed them. There was a lot of dry wood stored in the castle’s storerooms, and for that he was grateful. It was a pain to carry them upstairs, several flights of stairs, but it was worth the trouble. Frankenstein missed centralised heating as much as he missed a properly functioning shower, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

 

And that was how he found himself, one cold afternoon, lugging several pieces of firewood upstairs. He had already chopped them and readied them for use, but transportation was always slow-going. The stairs were steep and poorly-lit, and a cold draft blew from some unknown opening in the walls. Frankenstein shivered slightly, cursed the lack of amenities for the millionth time and continued labouring.

 

The lights from the torches that illuminated the narrow passage went out with a soft _shhh_ sound – like a sigh from a disembodied presence – and Frankenstein suddenly found himself stranded in total darkness. He gripped the firewood tighter and drew in a quick, startled breath.

 

And then all of a sudden, he was engulfed by an effluvia of rot, cloying and suffocating, and he gasped, letting go of the logs. They clattered to the floor, rolling over the steps and seemed to vanish entirely without making a single noise. Frankenstein was hyperventilating, aware that this couldn’t be real, but even if it wasn’t, it was _still_ happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

 

So he ran. He forced his immobile legs into action, vaulting over multiple steps and he _ran_ as if death itself were chasing him.

 

The floor fell out from underneath his legs and icy tendrils crept along his limbs, holding – securing him in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe and his heart was going to hammer straight out of his chest. He would choose falling down into the abyss over being suspended in the void, supported only by these dreadful things digging into his flesh, like severed hands grasping at him with bony fingers.

 

They were still crawling all over his body, sneaking under his clothes and tearing into his flesh. He didn’t bleed – he had nothing left to bleed by now. Everything inside him had already been sucked dry. His bones ground against each other under the pressure and he struggled, enraged and terrified by the futility of it all.

 

He couldn’t even scream.

 

‘ _Frankenstein_.’

 

He tried to turn his head, trying to reach the voice calling for him but the things that bound his body denied him even that. He gasped and sputtered, trying to let his voice out, to call back – call for help, but only a noiseless wheeze escaped him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, burning like acid, sloughing his skin off.

 

‘ _Frankenstein._ ’ The voice beckoned to him again, a lot more urgent this time and yet Frankenstein couldn’t answer him.

 

Those fingers were under his flesh now. The air was putrid with the stench of his own fear. There was no escape. It had all been an illusion. He was going die here, in the darkness, all alone, strangled by something that couldn’t even be perceived. This was his fate, had always been and no matter how hard he tried to escape, he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Resigned, Frankenstein closed his eyes and stopped struggling, turning away from the only thing that might have been his salvation.

 

Then, as if apocalypse itself had come, the darkness was lifted from his sight. The very space around him was rent into nothingness until little remained except brilliance of something brighter than the sun. It burnt his retinas and drowned every sensory input, it purged the poison from his veins and he was nothing, wrapped in light and cocooned in a familiar warmth.

 

When he was able to open his eyes again, he felt just a little cold.

 

It was dark again – except his vision was dotted with a billion twinkling lights – so familiar. It was the night sky. The moon hung heavy on the horizon and illuminated the bare treetops. The entire world was bathed in its milky glow and Frankenstein himself wasn’t an exception.

 

He was suspended in air, a long way from the ground.

 

His cognitive functions returned to him the moment he saw where he was. He flailed and panicked, but nothing happened. He was floating in the air, and while he had the liberty to move his arms and legs, gravity couldn’t touch him. He felt so overwrought that all he could manage was a weary chuckle as he gave up trying to understand just what the hell was going on. Maybe the dream was still continuing. Maybe he would never escape this nightmare.

 

Then he heard it. A faint rustle and breeze stirring from behind him. He craned his neck and found himself looking at a giant pair of wings. They spanned at least twenty feet across and eclipsed almost everything from view, but now he could tell where he was.

 

“Raizel?” He croaked, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t known he could _still_ be surprised tonight, and yet.

 

The child – Raizel – acknowledged him with another beat of his enormous wings and lifted his hand. The air around him gave way, and an invisible force gently lowered him to the ground. His knees buckled once he hit the ground; however, the power that supported him kept on cradling him until he could stand without assistance.

 

And once he could, the wings curled into themselves and Frankenstein _finally_ saw it. Those wings had a chiaroscuro pattern – it was just hard to see it in moonlight. They were white with angry splotches of black spreading from the tips and reaching inward. It had to mean something, but he couldn’t quite work out what. And he wasn’t allowed more thoughts on that matter as Raizel’s figure wobbled in midair, the wings disappeared and he _fell_.

 

Frankenstein didn’t need all of his faculties to reach out and grab him before he crashed to the ground. His body had moved before his brain could process. There was no impact when Raizel tumbled into his arms, however. It was as if he weighed nothing at all. As if he wasn’t real.

 

He couldn’t abide by that thought. He gathered Raizel’s infinitely precious and fragile body in his arms and carried him inside their shared home. He couldn’t make neither head nor tails of what had happened to him – to them, but it could wait. It could wait until he knew that Raizel was okay, because even so heavily disoriented, he could tell that he’d been saved by Raizel. Saved and protected – at a great cost to _him_. Just for Frankenstein’s sake.

 

And Frankenstein couldn’t live with himself if someone as precious as Raizel was hurt because of Frankenstein. He’d rather _die_ first.


	5. In all the things left unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are explained while others are not. Frankenstein just wants to go back to Raizel.

The coachman and the chauffeur were waiting for him in the foyer when he stepped inside. Frankenstein’s hands tightened over Raizel’s body instinctively. Were they here to punish him for hurting Raizel? Or were they here to separate them since he had caused Raizel so much trouble? Maybe it was better that way. Even if the idea of separating from Raizel made his heart twinge.

 

“Relax,” the coachman said, holding up his hand and moved a little closer. “May I see him?”

 

Frankenstein didn’t want to relent his grip. His body was still in fight or flight mode, and he had never been able to trust these two as much. If he had been less upset, he might have pondered why they had managed to appear inside the house. But it had been a tiring night, so Frankenstein let it pass, focusing on other, more important things.

 

“I won’t hurt him. There is no way I can.” There was enough sincerity in those words that Frankenstein loosened his death grip and passed Raizel’s body over.

 

The two of them studied Raizel for a moment, before sharing a look. The coachman pursed his lips and the lines on the chauffeur's face deepened. They stood in silence for a few more moments, before the coachman turned to him and took off his hat. Long and sleek blond hair fell free of its confines and the image of the coachman’s face distorted for a second, before reforming into something far more pleasing to the eye. The beard was gone too.

 

Frankenstein had expected a disguise from the get-go – he just hadn’t counted on it being, well, _magical_.

 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I regret to inform you that I cannot answer them. However, if you wish I can take you to the one who can give you more information. Unless you’d rather rest a bit first?”

 

“I don’t think I can rest tonight,” Frankenstein replied, swallowing a ball of panic at the idea of _sleeping_ again.

 

“Very well,” the coachman said and handed Raizel over to the other man. “Do not worry – he will not be harmed.” When he noticed that Frankenstein was still staring at Raizel’s form, he added, “I know I cannot ask you to trust me, but you’re in bit of a shock right now. It would be for the best if we go where someone can explain things to you.”

 

Frankenstein had to admit that he was suffering from shock. His nightmares were often violent and left him with injuries – self-inflicted, most of the times. And each time he felt like a wreck for hours afterwards, and the truly bad ones lasting for days. It was one of the reasons he could never be free from the clutches of the Organisation. They didn’t have to find him _physically_ to torment him.

 

“Okay,” Frankenstein acquiesced grudgingly and ran a hand through his tangled hair.

 

“Then let’s go,” the coachman said, stepping forward again until they were standing face to face.

 

It was a really beautiful face. If this man was also something like Raizel, was beauty a shared trait across the species then?

 

“Right now?”

 

“Yes, please take my hand.” The coachman struck out his hand and waited until Frankenstein placed his into it. Frankenstein was too tired to argue, or even be surprised when the world around him turned blurry and far too bright. Frankenstein raised his free hand to his face and closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was standing in a familiar office in front of a familiar man.

 

“Ah, Mr. Lee, it has been around two months, hasn’t it?” He said as a way of greeting, his mouth stretched into a thin smile. There was nothing lighthearted about that expression now.

 

Ah. Frankenstein realised with a start. The gloves had finally come off – it had just taken endangering the life of a completely innocent being to bring him to this point. He felt numb all over, being beyond shock at this point. He snatched his hand away from his guide’s grip and stalked forward, anger simmering just below the surface.

 

He wanted to _pummel_ him so bad, and he would have had too, if the coachman hadn’t grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise. It did nothing to quell Frankenstein’s anger, however, and he lashed out, elbowing the stupidly pretty guy in the ribs. The coachman grunted, but did not let go.

 

“Enough,” Mr. Emsworth said, and his voice was so commanding that Frankenstein stood down without really wanting to. “I understand that you’re upset, but fighting would only delay the explanations I need to give you. Take a seat, Mr. Lee. Have some tea with me, for once?”

 

There was tea set out on that table today instead of whiskey, and the sight of it made nostalgia hit him in the chest like a freight train. He took half a step back, before grinding his teeth and complying with Emsworth’s request. “Your explanation,” he said, seating himself opposite the man. “It had better be good.”

 

“Oh, it is,” the man drawled and poured him some tea.

 

Frankenstein sipped at his cup, feeling none of the warmth that Raizel’s presence provided him in abundance. He set the cup down and hunched a little, covering his face with his hands. The shock was starting to fade and he could feel himself trembling. The adrenaline in his system was receding and he knew it wasn’t going to be _pretty_ once it was all gone. He clenched his teeth and stared at Emsworth, wanting to crack open his skull with sheer will alone.

 

Emsworth gave him a small smile and put his cup down, folding his hands in his lap and regarding Frankenstein seriously. “So, ask me whatever you’d like?”

 

“Everything. I want to know _everything_.”

 

“Too broad.”

 

The urge to sock him in the face only grew.

 

“Well, what’s wrong with Raizel. What happened to him? What is he?”

 

“He’s sort of fading away. I don’t know what happened to him. And I can’t tell you what he is.”

 

So much for someone _explaining things_.

 

Frankenstein banked all his patience and grit his teeth. He needed answers, and this was apparently the only source he had. “What _can_ you tell me then?”

 

Emsworth lowered his gaze in contemplation before looking at Frankenstein again, unnerving him slightly at the way he seemed to _see_ through him. “Not much, I’m afraid. You are correct in assuming a few things, however, and I will confirm them for you. It’s true you had a nightmare tonight. You walked out of the window in your sleep and Raizel saved you. Raizel isn’t supposed to use his powers so extensively – not that holding you above ground used much strength. But he had to go into the depths of your nightmare and stop it. Otherwise,” Emsworth’s expression fell a little. “You’d have lost more memories, isn’t that right?”

 

Frankenstein blanched. “You _know_ about that?” Who _were_ these people?

 

“Do not worry,” the man hastened to explain. “I have not violated your privacy by looking into your mind. It’s just really apparent. All that neurodegeneration, as you people call it, I can see it. You would be too young to have it, except it’s caused by some kind of poison, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Frankenstein replied, gripping the handrests hard enough to make his fingers numb. He didn’t want to talk about it. He really didn’t, but – “You said he stopped it?”

 

Emsworth nodded. “At a great cost to himself, but yes,” he sighed and leaned back a little. “Not that it’s your fault, of course. Please don’t think I’m blaming you. He’s always like this. Besides, it is not that he was able to reverse the damage that has already been done, nor can he stop what is ultimately your fate.”

 

“Yes, I know. I’ll lose all my memories,” Frankenstein said, trying to detach himself completely from the situation – and failing. “By that time the brain damage would be so severe that I’ll also end up dying not long after. Not much I can do about it.”

 

The man in front of him looked pained. He had to have seen it, if he could guess at neurodegeneration just by looking at Frankenstein, and yet being told about it made him look wretched.

 

“It’s not just the poison they fed you for years,” Emsworth spoke after he was done schooling his features into something less rueful. “It was – some of our kind who constantly worked on you and then removed your memories forcibly. That is the reason you have been losing all your early memories.”

 

“Oh,” Frankenstein says, sitting so still that he could have been mistaken for a statue. What Emsworth said seemed to make sense on some level, but Frankenstein’s brain refused to process it. Up until now he believed that the drugs they used to force people to work for them was the reason he was suffering from memory loss. It was awful, but as a young teen who had been taken into the Organisation, he had made the choice to take it. He didn’t know what it would do to him, but he had ingested it with his own hands. He was a child and didn’t know any better, he had followed his friend’s lead and done it. So what if his friend had sold him into the Organisation? It was a moot point by now and he didn’t hate him.

 

But this –

 

“Explain,” he forced that one word out of his mouth and tried not to throw up.

 

“As you can no doubt tell, we’re not human. What we are isn’t really important to the discussion, so I’ll skip it.” He caught Frankenstein’s disapproving look and gave him a disarming smile – not that it worked. “A bunch of us wanted out of the rigid system we are a part of – were, really, so they took out Raizel by tricking him somehow. I don’t exactly know what happened myself, Raizel doesn’t tell me these things.” The man sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. “This and that happened – ” Frankenstein stared at him incredulously. How was he supposed to take any of this seriously. _This_ and _that_? But the man continued: “They left our, um, organisation, and came here in the human world to do things.”

 

What kind of things, Frankenstein wanted to ask, but he supposed he had a good idea already.

 

“I couldn’t punish them – by the way, I was their Lord back then,” Emsworth beamed at him. “Because they hadn’t broken the taboo and used their special powers. Some residual powers are permitted to people like us, but not the kind Raizel used on you. They circumvented the rules by putting you under the influence of a potent poison and then manipulated your memories however they wanted. It requires little force, after all.”

 

“Are you saying you can’t do anything about him until they use their real powers?”

 

“Yes, and I cannot do anything about them now anyway, as I have resigned and relinquished my powers as well. If I were to use them now, I, too, would suffer like Raizel.”

 

Frankenstein ignored the pang in his heart at the idea of Raizel suffering and tried to focus on how much _didn’t_ make sense. “But when these deserters or whatever use their powers, real ones, I mean, won’t they suffer too?”

 

“They would,” Emsworth confirmed. “But they have held out until now, so it won’t be so bad. Not like Raizel who was forced to use a lot of powers several hundred years ago. That guy has been fading away for centuries...”

 

Emsworth trailed off, not elaborating further and Frankenstein covered his face with trembling hands. In all of this, the thing that resonated with most clarity inside his head was that both he and Raizel were in a really similar situation, unfortunately so.

 

“Is there a way to help him?” Frankenstein asked when it seemed like there would be nothing more forthcoming.

 

Emsworth regarded him with renewed interest. “You wish to save Raizel but not yourself?”

 

Frankenstein gave a mirthless laugh. “I have already peace with my fate, but that’s not the same for Raizel. No one has ever taken such great pains to help me, so it’s only natural that I want to save him.”

 

“I am not sure if there is a way you can help him,” Emsworth began, steepling his fingers and leaning towards Frankenstein for the first time. “But I have a feeling that if it’s you, something will turn up, sooner or later.”

 

His head hurt and he was still trying to recover from the crash his system went into after the chemicals having run riot in his veins from last few hours. All this new information hadn’t made anything better, despite his expectations to the contrary. He was left with far more questions than before.

 

“However,” Emsworth said, breaking into his thoughts with his soft voice. “Even if you can’t save him, just staying by his side will help. It already has.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me about that. I wasn’t planning to leave his side even if you told me to,” Frankenstein bristled and took a few deep breaths. He needed time to sort all this information out and form theories of his own. He couldn’t do it right now. Not when he was so mentally wrung out. “Say, is Emsworth really your name?”

 

“No.” His lips quirked in an amused smile. “It’s supposed to be Lord Emsworth, because I used to be a Lord and I liked this character in these human stories I had had the pleasure of reading a while back. You can call me _Lord_ though, because that’s my rightful title, even if I’m no longer one. However,” he mused as a fond look flitted across his face. “It will be confusing if you ever get to meet the current Lord. Who, by the way, is the most amazing Lord of all times! She’s not only very intelligent, she’s also very powerful and adorable!”

 

The coachman cleared his throat and Emsworth – the Lord seemed to remember where he was.

 

“This is Ragar,” he pointed at the coachman. “Don’t blame him for not giving you his name until now. Ever since we retired, we lost our real names and had to take new ones for ourselves. It’s one of the few liberties allowed to us and a lot of us do it even though they aren’t yet down here yet. Like Gejutel, the guy you left back at Raizel’s place.”

 

“So he didn’t retire along with you guys?” Frankenstein asked, fishing for information.

 

“No, I asked him to stay behind to guide the new generation. My daughter is still young and inexperienced – I mean, the current Lord. She has great potential and she will do just fine, but as her father, I can’t help worrying. You have any idea how difficult it is to be a father? Especially in our line of work?”

 

The man went on and on further about his duties as a father, and  after a while, Frankenstein tuned him out. He sounded like one of those besotted parents and Frankenstein’s mental state wasn’t up to dealing with one of _those_. He finished his tea and tried to wrap his head around all that he had been told, which now when he thought back to, wasn’t that much. He had suspected half of it himself, and there really was a reason he was so comfortable with someone reading his mind. Even if his mind had forgotten, his body remembered. If he had lived with these beings for a long time in the Organisation, it was no wonder he took so easily to Raizel, though he was loathe to compare the two.

 

“Lord,” the coachman – Ragar spoke up suddenly. “It seems that Sir Raizel is awake and is concerned about this man’s well-being.”

 

“Ah,” the Lord paused mid-tirade and looked at Frankenstein as if he had forgotten he had an audience. “Yes, yes, you should head back and see to him.”

 

“All right,” Frankenstein said and stood up, wobbling only for a second. Ragar stepped forward and took his arm, though Frankenstein knew it was for teleportation – and this was the kind of world he was living in, now – purposes. “Thank you, I suppose.” Then a thought occurred to him and he turned to face the Lord again. “Does this mean that Raizel was always able to see what was wrong with me?”

 

“Yes, and it caused him a great amount of pain to see you suffer so much,” the Lord replied, tone solemn again. “But out of consideration for you, he didn’t want to remind you of unpleasant things.”

 

Frankenstein tightened his grip on Ragar’s hand and turned away. This wasn’t the kind of information he could deal with right now. Not when he couldn’t even _see_ Raizel and make sure if he was okay. He wanted to go back – go home to Raizel. How strange that he had come to think of a haunted castle as home when he hadn’t had one ever since he turned fourteen.

 

The Lord stood up and placed his hand upon Frankenstein’s shoulder, squeezing it ever so gently. “I would say sorry for all manner of things, but they wouldn’t even bring you empty comfort, so all I will say to you is that Raizel is probably the only one who can help you, and vice versa. Please take care.”

 

Frankenstein didn’t answer him. He turned to Ragar and nodded and they were pulled through time and space, and before a moment had passed, Frankenstein found himself in Raizel’s room, surrounded by the warmth and familiarity of the place. He was able to relax slightly and let go of Ragar. Ragar and the chauffeur, Gejutel as he was called, both excused themselves right away and Frankenstein barely even acknowledged them.

 

His eyes sought Raizel’s small figure, trying to reassure himself that he was _all right_ , physically at least. However, what was waiting him at home was something completely _different_. When he finally found Raizel, who had seated on one of the chairs that adorned the room, he discovered that Raizel was no longer a _child_.

 

It was the same face; it had lost the edge of innocence a child’s features provided and had instead taken on a shimmering sort of beauty, so exquisite and yet so delicate. The eyes that gazed at him, full of concern, however, were still the same. He had found Ragar to be rather beautiful, but what was in front of him now surpassed understanding.

 

However, it also made him slightly uncomfortable. He certainly hadn’t expected that, and he blamed it on the upheavals of the night he’d had, but this wasn’t something that escaped _Raizel’s_ notice. Immediately Raizel turned his face away and closed his eyes, his entire figure flinching away from Frankenstein.

 

“Ah,” Frankenstein said, stepping forward almost instinctively to soothe whatever what pain he had caused Raizel. He had always known that Raizel wasn’t actually a child, of course, but the small form had always elicited some kind of protective instinct in him. The same instincts were overwhelming him now, because even though Raizel was the size of a full-grown man, he seemed smaller, inordinately fragile. “Are you all right?” He asked, walking to the chair and then going on his knees so he could be face to face with Raizel.

 

He turned to face Frankenstein and nodded. There was still something so tentative about his gesture that it broke Frankenstein’s heart. There had to be a reason as to why he looked like this, but Frankenstein couldn’t bring himself to care. Not now.

 

“Thank you for saving me,” Frankenstein murmured and took Raizel’s hand in his. He had to remember that this was no longer a child, and yet.

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Raizel replied, slowly curling his fingers around Frankenstein’s palm and grasping it back.

 

The gesture warmed Frankenstein’s heart and all the exhaustion seemed to melt away from his body. Impulsively, he reached out and gathered Raizel’s body in his arms, though he remembered to keep his hold loose enough that Raizel could break away at any moment.

 

“No, thank you. I’m sorry that it hurt you,” Frankenstein said and pressed Raizel against him. This would have been so much easier had Raizel still been a child. “I hope this doesn’t bother you.”

 

Raizel shook his head and seemed to lean into him, so Frankenstein pulled Raizel closer and stayed that way for several minutes. When Frankenstein did let go, it was Raizel who seemed reluctant to part. It brought a smile to Frankenstein’s face. He took a seat next to him and closed his eyes, simply enjoying Raizel’s presence next to him, now that he was aware of it on a different level than before. His life had barely made much sense before he came here, and he was far too tired to think what it all meant. He was tired enough to not bother with it for days, but he knew that wasn’t about to happen. His brain was going in overdrive even as he began to relax. He shook his head and stopped himself from dwelling. It helped to focus on Raizel, unsurprisingly.

 

Raizel was so comforting, safe and warm that Frankenstein couldn’t help it. The noise in his mind quieted and he sat there with Raizel, watching the sun come up. A new day had begun and there were so many things he still wanted to let Raizel taste and experience. It was a fine day and it would be such a shame to waste it by dwelling on the past. He stretched a little and turned to look at Raizel whose entire attention had been captured by the rosy hue of the sky outside.

 

“Would you like some tea?”

 

“Yes.”

 

It was a little slice of normalcy that Frankenstein had carved out for himself in the wild ride that was his life, and he wouldn’t change it for anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This iteration of Frankenstein is a bit more touchy-feely because he's 1) very young, 2) used to be a normal kid and has led a life outside the Union, 3) was born in modern times, so he's never going to be all servant-like with Rai. I've been editing this for a while and now my eyes are blurry, so if anyone sees a horrible mistake, let me know. I'm going to edit it later for now.


	6. Transient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was all he could do, anyway, to lead a normal life. It might not have been the life he had wanted, but it was far better than the one he had fled from, and it was all thanks to Raizel that he was able to find a refuge.

Frankenstein blinked groggily, stretching a little in the warm patch he was currently resting and opened his eyes to a familiar sight. As he hadn’t returned to his room yesterday, he was still in Raizel’s bedroom – sleeping next to him – and Raizel was still there, now having shrunken down to his old size. Frankenstein felt a pang of disappointment as well as a surge of relief. The former he felt from returning to normal state of affairs, but he was not sure about the cause of the latter.

 

“Are you all right?” He asked, trying to observe Raizel without being obtrusive.

 

Raizel gave a slow nod and went to stand at the window. Frankenstein watched him for a few minutes, waffling over whether it was all right to ask him questions or should he keep trying milk the Lord for answers? 

 

“Frankenstein,” Raizel said without turning around and Frankenstein realised his mistake. _Of course_ , he would notice. “There is no reason for you to stay here. You are free to leave. I can call Ragar to pick you up and lead you back to the human world.”

 

Whatever Frankenstein had been expected, this wasn’t it.

 

“What? Why?” He knew he sounded a little shocked but he couldn’t help it. Why would Raizel want to send him away _now_?

 

“You didn’t come here as a prisoner but you are still treated as one,” Raizel said quietly, not letting Frankenstein see his face. “The Lord and the others mean well, but being here with me is not good for you. I – I didn’t know what was done to you, for I never wanted to look deep into your heart. I could see what was on the surface and that was painful enough. Now that I know,” Raizel paused, his voice a little tremulous as if he could not conceive the idea of someone being so cruel. “As for someone like me – I’m the same as them. The people who have hurt you so terribly.”

 

“How are you the same?” Frankenstein asked, clenching his fists and getting up from the couch. He strode up to Raizel and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back though he made sure not to be rough. “Did you try to wipe my memory as well?”

 

Raizel looked up at him, finally, and Frankenstein blanched at the look on his face. “I did not, but I went deep into your mind. I looked at things I was not allowed to see.”

 

“The Lord said you did it to make sure I didn’t lose more memories.” Raizel nodded a little but his expression still remained heartbreaking. Frankenstein took a deep breath and loosened his hold. “That wasn’t a permanent fix though, was it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, what counts is that you _tried_. Though, please don’t next time, if it hurts you so much.”

 

“Even so –”

 

“It’s enough that you are sorry for violating my privacy. The others that you liken yourself to didn’t even care about what _I_ wanted.” How could Raizel compare himself to them, Frankenstein couldn’t fathom, but he knew that they were nothing alike.

 

Raizel glanced outside the window for a moment, and then back at Frankenstein with a troubled face still. “The beings who did this to you, it was my job to stop them. And yet I have failed in doing so, and as such, failed you and countless others.”

 

“Nobody’s perfect. You can’t shoulder the blame of the entire world like that. Haven’t they hurt you as well? The reason why you’re stuck here, in this form?” He again wondered why Raizel was in this form again, but didn’t know if he should ask just yet.

 

“I am fine,” Raizel insisted and blinked. “You want to ask me something. What is it?”

 

“Can you tell?” Frankenstein asked sheepishly.

 

“Only that there is a question in your mind. I have been trying very hard not to probe at your mind, also because I’m afraid it may damage you further.”

 

“Ah,” Frankenstein sighed. “Well, yes. I was wondering about the sudden appearance change you went through earlier. You don’t have to tell me though, if you don’t feel comfortable.”

 

Raizel’s eyes took a faraway look, the light fading from them as they seemed to see something in the distant past and not Frankenstein. “Some things happened in the past – of which you may come to know just yet, and I was injured, terribly so. I put myself into stasis and took as small a form as I could maintain easily. However, when I use my powers which I shouldn’t, I revert to looking like a human.”

 

“So it hurts less if you’re a little kid?” Frankenstein ventured.

 

“In a manner of speaking.”

 

“Why can’t you use your powers?” Frankenstein asked, because that question had been bothering him for a long while already. The Lord had mentioned that he had given up his powers too, and using them now would inflict pain on him the way it did for Raizel. He had also said the ones who betrayed them also couldn’t, for the very same reason. Maybe it was a weakness he could exploit?

 

“Because I have lost the mandate,” Raizel said, more to himself than Frankenstein and then fell silent, either unwilling or unable to explain more. Frankenstein could tell.

 

How could he tell?

 

“Hey,” he said, frowning a little. “I might be wrong, but I’m able to sense how you feel. It’s not just my imagination, is it?”

 

“You can look into my heart to some extent,” Raizel said. “Just like I can.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

Raizel walked away from the window and went to sit down on the chair again, Frankenstein trailing him in a daze. There was a pinched look on Raizel’s face and as much as it bothered Frankenstein, a part of him was clamouring to know exactly how he had become _psychic_.

 

“Prolonged exposure to people like me, and constant attacks on your brain,” Raizel said, a little bitterly and clasped his hands in his lap, staring intently at him. “Forgive me.”

 

“No, but that’s _great_. Now I can identify the people who want to harm me and save myself!” Frankenstein exclaimed. He wasn’t that disturbed by it, when it had already happened – no use crying over spilt milk. Especially not when he could turn it to his advantage.

 

Raizel only gave him an unhappy look. Perhaps to him, it was a terrible thing to be privy to another’s thoughts – and well, Frankenstein could understand why. He technically didn’t want to tap into Raizel’s emotions, for they were personal. And Frankenstein was fond of Raizel, quite a lot.

 

“Anyway,” Frankenstein said, leaning on the window sill and letting the cold wind tousle his hair. It was cold, but not unpleasantly so. “If it’s all the same to you, I would rather stay here with you, unless…” He trailed off, a sudden idea striking him and bringing a grin to his face.

 

Raizel looked at him questioningly.

 

“Can you summon Ragar? I want to see that old man again.”

 

Raizel sighed, but did as was asked of him.

 

* * *

 

“Well?” asked a gorgeous blond sitting in the Lord’s chair, sporting a slightly put-out expression.

 

“Who are you?” Frankenstein asked, unsure if Ragar hadn’t just brought him to the wrong person out of annoyance.

 

“Oh, Frankenstein,” the blond said with a sly smile, and it was so familiar that Frankenstein identified him even before it was explained. “This is my true appearance. Sorry for all that earlier, but we are friends now, right?”

 

“No,” Frankenstein said flatly. “And I hadn’t yet given you my name.”

 

“Oops?” The Lord offered with a small grin and Frankenstein scowled at him.

 

“It’s fine. At this point asking anyone to respect my privacy is foolish, isn’t it?” Frankenstein crossed his arms and shook his head. He was so tired of these people and he barely even knew them. Except Raizel. Raizel was _all right_.

 

“Forgive me,” the Lord said, his tone a lot more sincere this time. He looked appropriately remorseful and pursed his lips. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here so quickly.”

 

“Well, I had a question. A request, really,” Frankenstein began, and then added, “It’s for Raizel’s sake.”

 

The Lord gave him an incredulous look.

 

“He feels as if he’s holding me prisoner or something, so I was wondering if I could bring him here. To live in the human world, if there’s no issue with that. Is there?”

 

The Lord stared at him. Ragar, too, was staring at him. Frankenstein tried not to feel bothered by it, but he could _feel_ their surprise roll off of them in waves and it worried him.

 

“Well?” He prompted a tad impatiently and tried not to buckle under the tension.

 

The Lord was the first one to collect himself and schooled his face into a look of careful blankness. “Raizel is the one who has confined himself to that prison-like castle. If he consents to coming out here and living with you, I have absolutely no objections to that.”

 

Frankenstein chewed on this for a few moments and then nodded with understanding. “All right, I’ll ask him.” He turned to Ragar and took his hand. “Time to go back, I guess. But, ah,” he turned to look at the Lord one last time and tried not to sound too smug. “I can tell what you’re feeling, you know, so no point in trying to hide it.” He hoped for at least one small victory over the Lord who seemed to always have the upper hand.

 

However, the Lord merely gave him a kind smile, dashing Frankenstein’s plans to get one over him. He _knew_ there was a reason he didn’t like this man.

 

“You take too many liberties with the Lord,” Ragar said to him once they were back in Raizel’s castle, his tone mildly reproachful.

 

Frankenstein shrugged. Ragar did not push the matter further. Instead, he brought out his hat and tugged it over his face to hide it again.

 

“Just ask Sir Raizel to call me if you are able to convince him to leave this place. He has always been so lonely…” Ragar said, looking at the castle a little sadly. “Even when he wasn’t stuck here.” He disappeared right after he said this, not giving Frankenstein a chance to reply. Not that Frankenstein minded, however. Ragar’s impression had improved steadily in Frankenstein’s eyes over the past few days, and this just made it more concrete.  

 

Frankenstein pulled his coat closer together to his body to adjust to the colder temperature of the castle and marched towards the kitchen. It was time to make tea.

 

* * *

 

It turned out that it was rather easy to convince Raizel to leave his castle when Frankenstein proposed it. His face seemed to light up immediately, and then fell right away as he thought of the implications. Frankenstein managed to convince him nonetheless that not everyone was suffering from psychic probing, and as such wasn’t going to be affected by Raizel’s powers.

 

Ragar and Gejutel came over to help them pack up and leave through the same carriage that had brought Frankenstein here. Gejutel assisted Raizel, while Ragar ventured into Frankenstein’s room and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the volume of journals he had collected. Frankenstein gave him a look.

 

“Did you forget how many I had asked for?”

 

“No,” Ragar conceded and helped Frankenstein put them into cardboard boxes. “I’m just surprised you filled them all. I thought you were burning them or something.”

 

“What a silly idea,” Frankenstein scoffed. “I record every single day in them, all the details I deem necessary. I also try to write down the things I remember from the past and I study what I have written before. It’s all in my cipher, of course.”

 

A look of comprehension crossed Ragar’s face and he made no further comment. Frankenstein knew he liked Ragar for a good reason, after all.

 

“The Lord has arranged for you to live in a house in Princetown itself for now,” Ragar said instead, taping the box shut and setting it out in a pile. “It’s probably safe from the men pursuing you, or so we feel. If you want to take Sir Raizel around the world later sometime, that can also be arranged.”

 

“Thanks, that’s really a great help,” Frankenstein said, genuinely surprised. He knew the Lord wasn’t doing it for him, but still, it was nice to be taken care of and protected for once.

 

And so they moved into an old but well-kept house in the small town of Princetown, not that far from the hotel he’d stayed in before. He wondered if he could go pay a visit to the hotel staff sometime, but thought better of it. He might run into them sooner or later, so it was pointless to go out of his way. Besides, he had someone very important to focus on right now.

 

Raizel, for his part, took everything very calmly, _remarkably_ so for a being that had been stuck in a medieval castle for centuries. He looked around, certainly, and seemed to absorb everything in his vision with a great deal of interest, but there wasn’t any hint of surprise from him. Frankenstein couldn’t feel it, at least, just a faint sense of wonder and happiness.

 

The latter warmed him to the core: the idea that he was able to give Raizel a modicum of happiness. No child, actual or magical, should be deprived of good things.

 

So Frankenstein went all out, splurging his salary – the Lord had actually paid him for the work done – on buying modern appliances for the sake of himself and Raizel both, a television for Raizel to watch, the latest cell phone for Raizel to play with and an assortment of books that he thought he might like. Ragar had assured him that food and other expenses would be managed by them, so he wasn’t worried about saving anything. What would he do with long-term saving anyway?

 

He showed them all to Raizel, explaining what each of them while Raizel sat down on a comfortable (and new) couch, examining all of them with interest. He was rather inept with most of them, but he took rather quickly to the phone and the television. Frankenstein left him to it and proceeded to finally take a bath that didn’t involve chopping logs, lighting fires and tending to them, lugging hot water around and making him more sweaty and grimy than ever. He turned on the central heating and curled up comfortably on his clean bed.

 

Raizel was happy, Frankenstein was clean _and_ happy, and that was all that mattered.

 

Winter turned into spring, the snow slowly melting and giving way to new life as more than half a year passed in Raizel’s company. Frankenstein spent most of his days making sure Raizel was well-fed, taking him out in the town – mostly at night when the streets were deserted, though Raizel loved to go to the market during daytime to purchase groceries with Frankenstein. The locals cooed at him in the beginning, startling him, but he had gotten used to it gradually and bore it with remarkable dignity. Frankenstein just gave them tolerant smiles and moved on. He did run into the hotel staff and explained that he had been assigned to take care of his employer’s nephew instead of guarding his haunted castle. Whether or not they believed him wasn’t important to him.

 

The rest of the time Frankenstein took to his journals. He didn’t want to write it on a laptop because that could be hacked, if he used internet – which he did – but coded journals were as good as he was going to get. He had learned to shield his mind a little better ever since gaining psychic sense, so he was sure that even if someone stole them and attacked his mind for the sake of decrypting them, he could guard it with a measure of success. It was an acceptable risk because while it didn’t stop his memory from deteriorating, it certainly slowed down the process.

 

It was all he could do, anyway, to lead a normal life. It might not have been the life he had wanted, but it was far better than the one he had fled from, and it was all thanks to Raizel that he was able to find a refuge.

 

* * *

 

Frankenstein put a bottle of juice into his shopping cart, glancing at the small figure following him with a serene look on his face. Three months he had lived in the human world, and yet his wonder at the sight of supermarkets hadn’t faded. Frankenstein smiled at Raizel indulgently and pointed at the piece of paper clutched between tiny, elegant fingers.

 

“Tofu,” Raizel read out. “You said we would eat some Mapo doufu tonight.”

 

“Indeed,” Frankenstein said pleasantly and wheeled his cart towards the required item. Raizel walked after him like a good child, though he had a disturbing propensity of getting lost if Frankenstein let him out of his sight too long. Frankenstein attributed his inability to find the correct directions from having never stepped outside the castle for a long time, and certainly never navigating like a human would. That Raizel tried so hard was adorable in itself and Frankenstein didn’t mind looking for him when he did lose his way. He could unerringly find Raizel because of he could feel Raizel no matter where he was.

 

It was certainly convenient.

 

“Anything else?” Frankenstein asked, adding a few packets of tofu to his growing list of purchases. Raizel shook his head, so Frankenstein started towards the checkout counter instead.

 

The cashier greeted him with a friendly smile and then bent down to sneak Raizel a piece of candy. Frankenstein bore it with a yet another patient smile and handed his items for her to ring out.

 

“Ah, Mr. Lee,” she exclaimed suddenly when she saw the tofu. “Did you know?”

 

“Yes?” He asked perfunctorily. The locals really loved their gossip and while Frankenstein didn’t begrudge them, he would rather be on his way. Though, he knew it was good to be abreast of anything new or suspicious going in the town in case the Organisation was making its moves.

 

“A bunch of Asian kids were kidnapped from the tour to the prison museum,” the girl whispered in a hushed tone. “One moment they were there, the next: poof! Gone! Why would anyone commit a kidnapping at the prison?”

 

“I am not sure,” Frankenstein said, frowning. Any news about crime was potentially a sign of movement from the Organisation. He hoped he would be able to overlook this, however. He hoped it was nothing but a misunderstanding.

 

“Lady,” a gruff voice spoke from behind him, jolting him out of his thoughts. “I just wanna buy this milk, so could you move along a bit faster?”

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” the cashier apologised and started sorting through Frankenstein’s purchases a little faster.

 

Frankenstein glanced over his shoulder, interested despite himself since the voice had a foreign accent that he couldn’t place. However, the moment he did so, his blood froze in his veins.

 

“M-24…” He said, almost too loud and the attention of the big man snapped to him _so fast_ that he must have gotten a whiplash.

 

“Dr. F?” M-24 exclaimed, shocked.

 

A litany of ‘ _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ’ ran through Frankenstein’s suddenly overwrought mind. How typical that his luck would give out when he’d least expected it to. And of all the people, it had to be _Crombel’s_ underling that found him, lowering the curtain on the peaceful life he had worked so hard to build.


	7. Cat's Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankenstein flirts with his past and Raizel makes a mistake.

The cashier gave them a strange look and Frankenstein turned to give her a reassuring smile, though his heart was pounding hard in his chest. “Ah, fancy meeting you here!” He exclaimed with fake cheer directed towards M-24. “Let’s go and catch up outside.”

 

The cashier gave him a dubious look, not failing to observe how the both of them had paled considerably. She opened her mouth to say something, but Raizel beat her to it.

 

“I want another candy,” he said, sliding his hand into Frankenstein’s and gripping it tightly. M-24 looked down at him and his eyes widened a little in confusion.

 

“O-okay.” She said and slipped Raizel another candy and rung up Frankenstein’s purchases. Frankenstein grabbed the bag and pulled Raizel out of the supermarket, giving M-24 a meaningful look. Frankenstein stepped outside and went to a secluded spot in the parking lot from where he could see the doors perfectly well. M-24 ambled out not long after, his solitary purchase cradled close to his chest and he donned his hat as soon as he spotted Frankenstein.

 

Raizel tugged on his hand and Frankenstein gave him an imploring look, asking him silently to get behind him. M-24 had seen him already so there was no hiding him, but Frankenstein could try.

 

“Dr. F,” M-24 greeted nervously and looked between the pair of them with a gaze that betrayed interest. “It’s been a long time.”

 

“Five years, give or take,” Frankenstein said airily, clutching at Raizel’s fingers out of sight.

 

“Never thought I’d run into you here. We thought you had gotten away for good, if you weren’t dead already, that is.” There was a shifty look on his face and Frankenstein’s eyes narrowed at that.

 

“You kidnapped those kids?” He got straight to the point, ignoring M-24’s attempts to stall for time before any backup arrived, which Frankenstein was sure was on its way. “Don’t think I don’t know.”

 

M-24 gave him a sheepish look and backed a little, raising his hands to pacify Frankenstein’s anger. “Does it matter that we did? Besides, _why_ are you here? Roaming around in public?”

 

“I have my reasons,” Frankenstein replied, before grabbing the lapels of M-24’s coat and dragging him down forcefully. “How many of you are here? Tell me or I might be forced to break your neck.”

 

M-24 was a big guy, fairly strong physically, but Frankenstein was _stronger_. M-24 knew it too because he made no moves to shake Frankenstein off. “Just me and M-21,” he said quickly.

 

Frankenstein let him go, not all that mollified, but it would have to do under the circumstances. “Just you two? What about the rest of your comrades?”

 

M-24’s expression closed off. “Dead,” he said in a vacant voice and pulled at his coat in a distracted manner.

 

“Oh.”

 

It wasn’t something Frankenstein hadn’t foreseen, but it still came as a surprise. Frankenstein could commiserate with that, though he did not know what to offer as comfort. What could his words mean to someone like these people who were even worse off than he was?

 

“M-21 will be here soon. I haven’t told him what happened, so…” M-24 said then, scuffing his shoes on the pavement and looking for all intents and purposes like an awkward child.

 

“Let those kids go, M-24,” Frankenstein implored instead, ignoring the way out even though it had been given to him, because he knew what kind of people these two were.

 

“We’re not all as lucky as you were, Dr. F,” M-24 said quietly. “You were able to make a clean break, but we can’t. _I_ can’t. You were always kind to us back then, so just this time I’ll let you go. Please,” his face twisted in remorse. “Don’t force me.”

 

“Do you really think you are letting me go?” Frankenstein asked, shifting the shopping bag from his right hand to the left and letting go of Raizel’s hand. He could feel Raizel’s discomfort and wanted nothing but to take him to a safe place, away from the drama from his past life. It couldn’t be helped right now, however.

 

“I know I can’t take you on alone, but if M-21 comes here, even you’d have a hard time fighting off the both of us.”

 

“Really now?” Frankenstein pushed his fingers into his hair, pushing it away from his face as he regarded M-24 with a smirk. To think these guys were not taking him seriously. It had been a while since he’d fought someone, but he was raring to go, blood singing in his veins from long-forgotten excitement. He would have too, if not for a small hand coming to rest on his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

 

Frankenstein started, sighed and shook his head, pulling away from the confrontational stance.

 

“Right,” he cleared his throat and took Raizel’s hand in his again. “M-24, the kids –”

 

“M-24?” Another voice joined his and they all turned to look at the new arrival. Frankenstein had now lost his window of opportunity to escape unscathed because between the two of them, M-24 was _kinder_ , more prone to being generous than M-21. Not to say that M-21 wasn’t a good guy – they both were, but M-21 was extremely protective of his comrades and would do anything for them. Go to any lengths. It helped that he was the strongest among them, and as such he had taken on the role of saving them. Between M-24’s safety and Frankenstein’s, he would definitely choose M-24 – and Frankenstein didn’t resent that. But.

 

He would _never_ let the kids go.

 

“Dr. F?” M-21 exclaimed, just as taken aback at M-24 was and Frankenstein suppressed a sigh.

 

“Right, we’re going to attract too much attention standing here in such a suspicious way. Let’s go to that café.” He pointed to a nearby one and looked at Raizel for confirmation. Raizel, for his part, looked a little perturbed but he made no moves to dissuade Frankenstein otherwise. Then, Frankenstein remembered. “Ah yes, the kids. Are they safe, at least?”

 

“What?” Asked M-21, shocked. He was definitely not expecting to meet Frankenstein here, or that he’d know what they had been up to.

 

“Yes,” M-24 answered pretty much simultaneously. “We knocked them out. They aren’t hurt.”

 

“M-24, you…”

 

“Let’s not make a scene here, M-21,” he said. “We can’t walk away from this. Not now.”

 

Without further ado, they made their way to the café where Frankenstein ordered a vanilla milkshake for Raizel and an Americano for himself. The other two ordered lattes and they waited in complete silence until their orders arrived.

 

Raizel took to his drink with barely concealed delight and sipped at it with dignity mere mortals could never exhibit. Frankenstein suppressed a burst of fondness at the image and turned to look at the others, trying to focus at the task at hand.

 

“So,” Frankenstein said, tasting the bitter blend on his tongue. “Why did you kidnap those children?”

 

M-21 crossed his arms and tried to give him an intimidating glare, growling when he spoke, though the effect was marred by the cheery atmosphere of the café and the peppy music playing in the background: “What is it to you?”

 

“Yes,” M-24 agreed. “What is it to you? You got out of the Union. What more do you want?”

 

“Union?”

 

“They are calling themselves that now, after you’d escaped with so much data and information about our bases,” M-21 said.

 

“I escaped with _what_?”

 

“The data?” M-24 said, puzzled. “The location of all the bases around the world, all our weapons, biological as well as mechanical alike, you escaped with them, right?”

 

Frankenstein pursed his lips. He couldn’t remember if he did and that was worrying in itself. “I am not sure if I did.”

 

“What are you talking about?” M-21 snapped. “We were all told to shoot you down on sight, if we ever crossed paths with you. You stole the only blueprints of our latest technologies and made off with it. How can you _not_ know?”

 

Frankenstein bowed his head and searched deep into his memories, but nothing seemed to come to mind. He raised his head after a few minutes and gave them an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my memories of that incident completely. If I did steal something, I can no longer remember it.”

 

“Well,” M-21 sighed in irritation. “That’s just great. How is it that you have forgotten something so important? You were one of the Union’s most brilliant scientists. You worked right under the authority of the First Elder. How can you be living _here_ , in this little town, wasting your time taking care of kids?”

 

Raizel looked up at that, putting away his empty glass. He didn’t seem offended at the way M-21 had alluded to him, but Frankenstein bristled anyway.

 

“That day,” Frankenstein said. “I had jumped off the cliff the moment I had a lucid moment between the drug-fuelled haze they kept me in. I dived off a cliff because I didn’t want to live like that anymore. It was just my luck that below the tree cover that broke my fall, there was a giant hidden lake. I fell into the water and only a few broken bones. Nothing I couldn’t recover from, and it was _such_ a pity.”

 

M-21 snapped his mouth close and glared at his cold latte. M-24 had wisely finished his, trying to not get between the two hot-headed men.

 

“I wanted to die, you know. It seemed like that was the only way I could stop them from exploiting my intelligence. I had never been allowed the free use of my own intellect. They harvested it and made it completely inaccessible to me by putting me on mind-controlling drugs. You have heard of those, right?” Not everyone was forced to take them, after all. A lot of people were kept in line by fear tactics, but it wasn’t possible to harness true brilliance by _force_. It had to be coerced out through other, more sinister methods.

 

M-24 looked truly shocked. “They put you on drugs? But that would kill you sooner or later, surely, they wouldn’t…?”

 

Frankenstein smiled grimly and both M-24 and M-21 winced. These two had been rather naïve, and as such were never very successful as agents since they lacked the ruthless ways of most other, more favoured ones. It was no wonder that they were pretty much on the bottom rung of the ladder of the Organisation’s hierarchy, though they had immense potential, if Frankenstein remembered right.

 

M-21 placed his hand on M-24’s arm, sharing a look that conveyed something to the other that Frankenstein wasn’t privy to. He finished his coffee and placed the cup back in the saucer with a delicate little clink. He turned to Raizel to see if there was something else he’d like, and found himself the sole focus of two concerned red eyes. Raizel’s lips were thinned in displeasure and the look in his eyes was _pained_.

 

Was he concerned about Frankenstein? Or bothered by the almost flippant way Frankenstein treated his mortality?

 

“Do you want to try the mango flavour?” Frankenstein asked softly, smiling down at him to put him at ease.

 

Raizel nodded, but there was still a distraught cast to his expression that bothered Frankenstein. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it though – or anyone, really.

 

“To lose your will – the very essence of humanity is the worst you can do to someone who possesses it,” Raizel spoke quietly, breaking the awkward silence left behind by the earlier conversation. “It is a great crime to breach that inviolate space that exists within humans and then gain control of it. Humans are not meant to have someone else in their head.” Raizel looked sadly at both Frankenstein and M-24. “Subjugating a human’s body is already unforgivable – to do it to their minds as well is inconceivably awful.”

 

M-21 and M-24 stared Raizel in shock whereas Frankenstein just felt a great sorrow in his heart. Not just because Raizel’s words rang true; it was also because he knew how much Raizel blamed _himself_ for the predicament they were in. The grief Raizel felt was smothering Frankenstein right this moment, robbing him the ability to even speak or comfort Raizel the way he should be.

 

It was then that M-24 clutched at his chest and made a distressed sound. “It hurts,” he said faintly. “Looking at him – it hurts.” He pointed in Raizel’s direction, struggling to breathe.

 

Raizel’s eyes widened and his body dissolved into the thin air, leaving both M-21 and M-24 stunned. They had been in a secluded spot so the sudden disappearing act hadn’t attracted any untoward attention, but Frankenstein still felt like he had lost a few years of his life just to that. If he had any left to lose, that is.

 

“What the _fuck_?” M-21 was the first one to recover, clutching at M-24’s arm and trying to shield him from a foe he couldn’t even see.

 

Frankenstein pinched the bridge of his nose and reached out with his newly enhanced senses. He was able to locate Raizel fairly quickly. He was at home, probably at one of the windows and looking desolately out of them. Raizel’s soul felt _wounded_. He had been afraid of hurting someone with his enormous psychic field and Frankenstein had still lured him out. Not that he would blame Frankenstein.

 

No, he would only blame _himself_.

 

“Yeah, about that,” Frankenstein said. Going to Raizel right now was futile. He’d just disappear further. He might even return to the castle and not let Frankenstein follow. It was a miracle as it is that he’d opted to return _home_ , and not back to the prison. Frankenstein was grateful – he really was. “That person is psychic and can’t really contain his powers that well. It’s not his fault – he was hurt by the people who formed the Organisation and as such his powers leak out from his body. He’s always in pain because of that, but to him violating someone’s mental space is worse than the agony he goes through on a daily basis.”

 

“Psychic?” M-21 repeated sceptically. The frown across his scarred mouth told Frankenstein just how much stock he put into Frankenstein’s words.

 

“You saw him disappear right in front of your eyes. You can’t say that it didn’t happen,” Frankenstein pointed out. Every nerve inside his body screamed at him to go to Raizel, to fold his little form in his arms and soothe his pain. He resisted the urge with great effort and focused on his duty – for he had one now. He had to save the kids these two had kidnapped, and perhaps help them out in the process, too.

 

“Why was it so painful? My heart hurt so much that I thought I was going to die,” M-24 said hoarsely. His fingers were still trembling, his face was covered in cold sweat and he had an unhealthy pallor on his face. But that was to be expected: he had been hit with the full force of Raizel’s sadness and guilty-conscience right in the face when he hadn’t become used to it the way Frankenstein had.

 

He had no mental shields to speak of.

 

“That’s just a fraction of what he feels every day,” Frankenstein murmured, tracing the edge of the coffee cup. “He was just upset enough to forget that he shouldn’t have let his own control slip.”

 

“What is he?” M-21 asked, rubbing M-24’s arm and scooting even closer to him as if he could physically soak up the awful feeling M-24 was suffering from.

 

“I don’t know,” Frankenstein admitted. “The others haven’t told me, and I don’t want to ask him personally. If he thinks I really need that information, he will tell me. That’s what I believe.” He did have some ideas, however, but this was no time for idle speculation.

 

They gave him a doubtful look.

 

“No, really.” Frankenstein sighed and closed his eyes. “When the information becomes truly necessary, he will divulge it without question. Even if talking about it makes him sad.”

 

“How can you trust him so much?” It was M-21 who asked him that, and he seemed conflicted. “How can you trust something you can’t even understand or know anything about?”

 

“Did you _look_ at him?” Frankenstein asked with a soft laugh. When they nodded at him, understanding dawning in their eyes, he continued: “He just inspires confidence in a way nothing or no one else can. I have lived with him for almost eight months now and he has never harmed me. I can’t explain it, but it’s probably his _aura_? It’s very calming and gentle. Just like him.”

 

“So a form of mind-control?” M-21 bared his teeth in distaste, because just like Frankenstein it was a sore spot for him.

 

Frankenstein shook his head. “No. He doesn’t use mind-control. What I feel from him is the warmth of his soul, if you can accept soul as a concept that exists. His soul shields me from my own demons, protecting me and holding me close as if I were something precious.” He dipped his head to hide his fond smile. “Even someone like me…”

 

Silence prevailed awhile as each of them were lost in their own thoughts, working out the import of today’s events. Eventually, Frankenstein brought up the reason they had come here in the first place.

 

“The kids, will you let them go? What even happened that you had to involve civilians?”

 

“We were transporting a shipment of goods to a certain place – sorry that we can’t tell you where – and they saw us loading some of it up. They probably didn’t think much of it, but it’s the Union’s policy to eliminate witnesses,” M-24 answered, ignoring M-21’s alarmed look.

 

“Have they seen your faces?” Frankenstein asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“When they saw you load the supplies or when you kidnapped them?”

 

“When we were loading up the supplies. We made sure to kidnap them quietly, though it was difficult in the museum. I didn’t want to use the mind-wiping drug on them, though that would have left them alive. It’s better to die than to have that used on you.’

 

Frankenstein couldn’t help agreeing. The resultant brain damage from that drug was more than dreadful.

 

“Still,” Frankenstein said. “If they haven’t seen who kidnapped them, I think it would be better to let them go. I can’t overlook this, not when innocent lives are involved.”

 

“You,” M-21 said sharply, jabbing a finger in his direction in accusation. “You have killed plenty of innocents before.”

 

“And not a day goes by when I don’t try to remind myself of that,” Frankenstein replied in a solemn voice. “Not a moment when I don’t blame myself for killing them even though it wasn’t done on purpose. I don’t want more people to lose their lives pointlessly. Surely even you understand that, M-21?”

 

M-21 wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore.

 

“M-21, you know Dr. F is right.”

 

“Frankenstein.”

 

“What?” asked M-24, turning to throw him a quizzical look.

 

“Call me Frankenstein. That’s my name now.”

 

“Frankenstein, then,” M-21 said gruffly and grabbed a nearby napkin, scribbled a few lines on it and pushed it into Frankenstein’s hands. “That’s where they are. Go and free them, if you want. We’ll be off now. Stay out of sight, if you know what’s good for you.”

 

“I will.” He knew that he had a chance at spending the rest of his life peacefully, but he also knew that he couldn’t afford that. But no need to worry these two. And speaking of which: “Where are you two going?”

 

“Back to our mission,” M-21 said in a sullen voice. “I’m sure the higher ups will be very interested to know why we were late in our delivery.”

 

Frankenstein tapped his lips with a finger and regarded them with renewed interest. “You could also not go back…”

 

“What?” both M-21 and M-24 exclaimed together.

 

The thing was that Frankenstein remembered Dr. Crombel all too well. M-21 and M-24 were agents who worked under his authority, and as such were answerable to him in a direct chain of command. Frankenstein didn’t want to send them back to that hell, not when he knew intimately just how it was. All of the researchers the Organisation had, only a handful weren’t downright crazy. It didn’t matter if it was Crombel or Aris or Ignes, Frankenstein hated the lot of them with a burning passion.

 

“Stay with us. It would help you heal, in any case,” Frankenstein said. He knew Raizel wouldn’t mind, in fact he would love to extend his protection to the people abused by those traitors. “Being with Raizel, you know that kid, will help you gain a better control of your mind and repel the others from the Organisation.”

 

M-21 sat down slowly and stared at Frankenstein as if he had grown a second head.

 

“What you say sounds too good to be true. How do I know you aren’t just going to use us?”

 

“That’s a valid concern,” Frankenstein said and gave the matter some thought. Then he produced a notebook from his pocket and wrote down a number. “I’ll show you my trust first. Here’s my phone number. Call me if you change your mind.”

 

He was aware that they could just hand him over to the Organisation and earn some privileges, but what kind of life was that? It was an acceptable risk – they could always go live somewhere else, that wasn’t an issue, really.

 

“All right,” M-21 said and walked out of the café with M-24 and Frankenstein watched them go.

 

He ordered another cup of hot coffee and mulled over the new information he had gained today. He wrote it down in his notebook using the cipher he usually didn’t usually utilise, and tucked it away. Enough of that, he now had a much more important thing to do.

 

Go comfort Raizel and ply him with tea and sweets. And rescue the children, _of course_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.T. Fields, quoth Nagisa Kaworu. lol


	8. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Frankenstein knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had fucked up beyond comprehension

Frankenstein had acquired the phone numbers of Ragar and Gejutel (and even the Lord) in the meantime, so he made sure to give Gejutel a call and ask him to pick up the children. True to their words, he found the children unscathed lying in a heap in a dirty abandoned building. He carried them to the car and put them there safely and asked Gejutel to drive them to the local police station. He had first considered taking them to the house and letting them wake up there, but then he thought better of it. It would endanger Raizel and raise too many questions, so he chose to bring them to the proper authorities first. Even if it that move meant exposing himself to potential Organisation spies.

 

He had called in advance to let them know where he had found the kids and by the time he reached the police station, the entire town seemed to be galvanised by the sudden discovery. The police officials were waiting for him at the entrance of the station and they helped him take the kids out of the car. When Raizel climbed out of the backseat of the car, though Frankenstein knew for a fact that he had not been present when they had put the kids back there, he tried not to let his surprise show. Raizel placed his hand in Frankenstein’s and followed him into the police station, destroying Frankenstein’s plans to keep him away from the spotlight.

 

Well, it couldn’t be helped, then. He wasn’t that annoyed – or at all, in fact.

 

Inside, there was a small crowd waiting for him. The kids were taken to a different spot where medical experts looked over them and declared that they’d just been knocked out with some superficial injuries. Frankenstein, Gejutel and Raizel were ushered into one of the cabins where they had a few people waiting for them.

 

“These are officer Na Yonsu and officer An Sangeen, down from the Yard to help us with the case,” the officer in charge said and offered them all a seat.

 

Raizel sat between Gejutel and Frankenstein and kept holding onto Frankenstein, whether for Raizel’s own benefit or for his, he did not know. But he appreciated it all the same.

 

Officer Na Yonsu looked at the reports and then at Frankenstein, her eyes narrowed in thinly-veiled suspicion. “You say you found the kids by the roadside, really? How can we know that you aren’t the kidnappers?”

 

Frankenstein shrugged. “Why would I kidnap a bunch of kids and then bring them to the police station without exacting any ransom? Or, you know,” he said, leaning forward with a mocking smile on his face. “Why would I cast so much suspicion on myself by doing so if I was the one who had kidnapped them in the first place?”

 

“Because then you could escape the suspicion by bringing them,” officer Yonsu said, crossing her arms.

 

“Are you insinuating that I would value some reverse psychology gambit over my safety? Or the safety of the one who depends on me?” Frankenstein arched an eyebrow, feeling more and more unamused by the second.

 

The woman in front of him frowned, giving a sideways look to the other officer who had been silent so far.

 

“Mr. Lee,” the man began. “I know you are feeling a little upset for being interrogated in this manner, but please try to understand. We don’t want to cause an international scandal. Our country is not known for such crimes, and we’d like to keep it so. The South Korean government was very anxious that their citizens be returned without harm, and I’m glad that it happened this way. However,” he leaned forward and regarded Frankenstein with a sharp look in his eyes. “Forgive us if we want to be _thorough_.”

 

“I can understand that,” Frankenstein said. “But you realise you are making me regret pulling these kids off the road in this freezing weather?” It was patently untrue, but he was irked because Raizel was here, being subjected to such a treatment. “Next time I want to be a Good Samaritan, I’d remember _this_.”

 

Yonsu bristled and Sangeen seemed to hesitate. “Okay,” he conceded, raising his hands in a helpless gesture. Yonsu shot him an annoyed look, but he didn’t glance at her. “I guess we have been a little rude, but you can understand our agitation. It’s a good thing that the kids have returned safely. Still,” he eyed the three of them. “I’d like to see your IDs etc.”

 

“Sure,” Frankenstein said and took out his wallet, handing him his citizen card – fake, of course, but since it was old and the data had been since destroyed, there was no way to prove it otherwise.

 

Fortunately, neither of the two objected to it. They handed it back to him and turned at Gejutel who gave them a wholly unimpressed look.

 

“Does it look like I carry such a thing on me like this lout here?” Then he produced a driving license _anyway_. “This is all I have.”

 

After dispensing with that, they cleared their throat and looked at Raizel but thought better than asking for a child’s papers. Frankenstein was glad too, because had they suspected _him_ , he wasn’t sure what he would have done. To them, that is. The silence in the room was just beginning to grow awkward that the door opened and the children poured in.

 

“Hello!” they greeted and crowded near Frankenstein and Raizel.

 

“We heard you saved us?” One of the girls said, giving him a small smile. Her English wasn’t that good, but she had put all her effort into speaking.

 

“Yes, I saw you guys and brought you here,” Frankenstein said evenly, trying not to show his relief on his face. He was glad that they were not harmed.

 

“Thank you so much!” The other girl piped up. Her accent was much better, and she seemed a lot more confident as well. “I’m Im Suyi. This is Yuna,” she pointed to her friend who had spoken first.

 

“Yeah, thank you so much,” the boys joined in as well. “I’m Han Shinwoo, and this is Woo Ikhan.”

 

“Hello,” Frankenstein greeted, smiling. They were kind of adorable, after all. Having gone through a potentially traumatising experience, and yet they wanted to come thank the people who had rescued them. These children were brave and sweet and Frankenstein couldn’t help feeling certain keenness towards them.

 

“And who is this?” Yuna asked, looking down at Raizel.

 

“I’m…Raizel,” he replied serenely. As if he wasn’t bothered by so many children surrounding him and talking to him, despite having lived in isolation for so long. Or maybe he had gotten used to it since he received so much attention in the supermarkets.

 

The kids chattered a little in Korean, before they turned to him again. Frankenstein couldn’t understand the language, but going by Raizel’s emotions, it did seem like they were cooing over how cute he was. He had a tiny little blush and he was glancing away for the first time.

 

It even managed to surprise the usually unflappable Gejutel.

 

“Oh yeah,” Shinwoo said suddenly, switching back to English. “I wanted to give you something, as a thank you for saving us!”

 

They all turned to him as he rummaged inside his bag, face twisting in concentration as he searched and then his face morphed into an expression of triumph. “Here!” He proclaimed, putting the prize on Raizel’s palm and giving him a thumbs up. “Thanks, Rai!”

 

“Rai?” Frankenstein echoed, feeling a little faint at the thing that was in Raizel’s hands – and he was cradling it with so much _care_ – and at that nickname. The kids barely even knew him and they had given him a diminutive name already?

 

Yuna was the one who looked up, a guilty look on her face. “Um, is that bad? His name is a little hard to say, so…”

 

“It’s fine,” Raizel replied before Frankenstein could. He kept on holding the item in his open palms, regarding it with intense curiosity.

 

“Okay!” Yuna smiled at him and reached out, pausing only at the last second and her smile turned sheepish. “Is it okay?”

 

Raizel gave her a nod. She patted his shoulder, only a little awkward, and then the rest of them followed. They each gave Raizel small pats and then filtered out of the room, seemingly satisfied. Raizel watched them leave with a look that could be best described as _longing_ and Frankenstein swallowed, forcing down a lump down his throat.

 

_Of course_. Raizel had been unbearably lonely for such a long period of time. And even though they were together now, it wasn’t as if he led a very social life. He had to be secretive, after all, or else he’d be caught by the agents of the Organisation. He had been, in fact, and it was just sheer dumb luck that he had known them. Had it been someone like Jake or Marie – another set of Crombel’s agents, he’d be forced to make a run for it.

 

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat and facing the officers again. “Can we go now?”

 

“Huh? Yes, certainly,” Officer Sangeen said and went to the door, holding it open for them.

 

Frankenstein took Raizel by the shoulder and guided him outside with Gejutel bringing up the rear. They walked to the car in silence and it wasn’t until they were on their way home that Gejutel glanced in the rear-view mirror and posed the question that had to have been bothering him for a long while.

 

“What’s _that_ thing Sir Raizel is holding?”

 

“Instant Ramyeon,” Frankenstein replied tonelessly and did not answer more of Gejutel’s inane queries. He was still a little miffed at being called a lout, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

The officers did not bother him again, however, despite his worst fears. For the first few days he was really on the edge because he kept expecting them to pop up at his front door, demanding answers. But nothing of that sort happened. Though, he was only able to relax when Ragar surreptitiously told him that the Lord had taken care of it. _How_ , Frankenstein had mouthed at him, but Ragar only had shaken his head. He wasn’t sure why they had been whispering, but that was how things seemed to be sometimes with these people.

 

And Frankenstein could roll with that.

 

What he couldn’t abide by was Raizel’s new obsession. He had held that ridiculous packet of instant ramyeon in his hands until Frankenstein offered to cook it for him. And when he had eaten it, he had looked so _absolutely_ enchanted by it that he kept making requests to make more. Which meant more trips to the supermarket, but they weren’t able to find the same brand or quality of instant ramyeon, so Frankenstein had added it to the lists that Ragar had to deliver.

 

And he had _better_ deliver because he couldn’t stand the way Raizel looked at him.

 

Until then, Frankenstein embarked on a quest to learn how to make ramyeon from scratch instead and obtained much better results. The way Raizel’s face brightened was motivator enough for him to get better at it. And that was why it took him a while to notice that he’d been spending more and more time not obsessing over his revenge and the past. Instead he spent most of his days running around for Raizel’s sake, or with him, drinking tea and watching the telly as if there was nothing better in life to do.

 

What could be _better_ than this? He had never imagined having such a peaceful life. He had never imagined it for himself, at least. He could admit that he just liked being with Raizel without worrying about consequences. This was the first time in his life when someone needed him as he was, without wanting to exploit his intelligence or using him to hurt others.

 

No, Raizel just appreciated his company. Liked to sit with him during the warm afternoons. Liked to walk around the town in wintry nights, huddling under warm coats and observing the stillness of a sleeping town. Liked doing mundane things like go to supermarkets and buy something like broccoli. Which, Frankenstein was amused to note, he didn’t even like. He tolerated it in the cart only for Frankenstein’s sake ever since Frankenstein had explained to him about nutrition and balanced diet.

 

Today for instance, it was spinach and Raizel looked at it as if it had personally offended him.

 

“This is good for the health,” Frankenstein pointed out, trying to suppress his amusement and failing.

 

Raizel reached out and added a little bit more to their cart upon hearing that and walked away, not willing to let Frankenstein see his expression. Something quite like happiness bloomed deep in Frankenstein’s chest. It was in moments like these that Frankenstein didn’t know what to do with himself. There was no way to contain what he felt inside, but no way to express it in words either. Except, he knew that Raizel could _feel_ it.

 

At least, that was what Frankenstein concluded by the way Raizel’s footsteps paused momentarily. He didn’t look back nor did he make any comment – there was just something in his silence that conveyed to Frankenstein that it had not gone unnoticed.

 

Frankenstein covered his face with a hand and smiled into it, before pushing his cart forward. He had taken but two steps that the world seemed to simply _fall_ away. He blinked, disoriented by the sudden darkness. He tried to speak, but no words came out. He couldn’t move either – just stood still and helpless as his body was pulled along whatever it was that happened to him.

 

And just as suddenly as the darkness had encompassed him, his vision was filled with lights and shapes and faces – none he could recognise, however, and that was worrying in itself. He was lying down, it seemed, on the floor and he was surrounded by several men and women, all dressed in the same sort of clothes. The only one that stood out was a small, dark-haired child with unusually coloured eyes.

 

He blinked and tried to sit up, only to find it impossible to do so without assistance. Several hands reached out to pull him back up and he sat, propped against a rack of merchandise – a shop, then? He became aware of a slow and deep pain in his head and an even worse one in his chest.

 

“Mr. Lee?” Some of them seemed to ask, again and again until he gathered that they were talking to him.

 

Was that what he called himself?

 

“Yes?” he said thickly, still trying to make sense of the world and himself.

 

“Are you all right? Do you want to see a doctor, maybe?” A girl asked. There seemed to be tears in her eyes and her voice trembled. Was the person she so concerned about _him_? He couldn’t understand it.

 

“No,” he said. He tried to think and kept on drawing a blank. Everything was like an empty canvas – there were images in his head, he could identify things, but he couldn’t make any sense of anything and that _terrified_ him. A slow panic started to build up inside him, not knowing where he was, who he was with and what was going on.

 

“I’ll take him home,” the child said and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet with surprising strength.

 

Home? What was home? Did he even have a home?

 

No time to contemplate that as the child all but dragged him out of the building, kept on walking until they were out of sight of all those anxious faces and turned into an alley where no prying eyes could get to them. He snatched his arm away from that grip and fell to his knees, gasping and panting, totally and _utterly_ lost.

 

“Frankenstein,” the child said. He did not reach out again, however, which was a small mercy.

 

“You – you know my name,” he accused.

 

“And you know mine.”

 

“I – I don’t.” He clutched his head and curled into himself, putting as much distance between the two of them. “You are like them. You _feel_ like them.”

 

The face in front of him transformed at his words, to the extent that it was painful to even look upon. Frankenstein wasn’t going to feel sorry for something like this, however.

 

“Yes,” he admitted and stepped away, giving Frankenstein the space he had wanted. “Forgive me.” His tone was sorrowful and his crimson eyes became clouded. “However, you are no longer with them.”

 

“You –”

 

“I’m not one of them,” the child cut him off. “You’re far away from them. You just have suffered from something like a stroke, I think, and as such can’t remember your present.”

 

“How can I believe you? Anything you say?” Frankenstein said coldly, climbing back to his feet and looking down on him. “Don’t think I’m fooled by your appearance. You have the same aura as the ones who – who –” He clutched at his head and groaned. He didn’t _want_ to remember. He really didn’t.

 

“If punishing me for the awful things they did to you makes you feel better, you’re welcome to do so.”

 

Frankenstein looked up at that. There was no inflection in that voice, only quiet resignation and an acceptance that he’d never felt from the others. He raised his fist and swung it, narrowly missing the child’s cheek and struck the brick wall next to his face. It stung, but he knew there was no way he could _actually_ hit a child’s face. So this was the next best thing.

 

The child took his hand in his, frowning at the split knuckles and breathed on it softly. The pain receded. The wounds didn’t knit back together and neither did the bleeding stop, but it still helped. Frankenstein gritted his teeth. The child let his hand go with a desolate look on his face.

 

And then that small body transformed into a bigger one, growing to an adult size – a height that rivalled his, and Frankenstein forgot to breathe, almost. If it had been awful to see a child’s face twisted in pain, and yet this was just as bad. But inhuman beauty wouldn’t bother Frankenstein for a long period of time. He was used to it, living in the Organisation for as long as he did, surrounded by beings like him. Even if he was far lovelier than they could ever dream to be.

 

This wasn’t the time to be distracted by looks, however. How did that make him any different than the likes of Dr. Aris?

 

He struck out, frustrated, only to recoil a little when he realised that the child – no, the man in front of him refused to dodge his blow. He tried to pull back, but it connected with his cheek _anyway_ , splitting the tender skin and drawing blood. That dark head snapped to the side and remained that way, as if offering himself up for Frankenstein’s use – inviting him to vent his pain and anger on a completely unresisting target.

 

“No,” he said, drawing back. “Even if you don’t give a shit about this, even if it doesn’t hurt you, I’m not going to derive any satisfaction from hurting you. That’s not the point.”

 

“Then,” the man asked, still not looking at him. “What would make you happy?”

 

“Why do _you_ care?” Frankenstein asked, annoyed. He wasn’t like the others, was he? He couldn’t be – none of them would have tolerated Frankenstein landing a blow on them. They didn’t like being pulled down to a human’s level, anything that would besmirch their honour, their dignity. And here was a being, completely willing to be roughened up to please a human. If Frankenstein could care, he would care right about now.

 

But the man did not explain his motivations.

 

“You want to make it up to me?” Frankenstein asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the opposite wall. He was irritated – really irritated. How could he let one of these things to get to him? “Stop fucking with my head. Fix my memory. You guys are the ones who messed it up, didn’t you?”

 

“I – I cannot restore the memory that has been lost before,” the man replied, finally looking back at him. His expression was unreadable now. “I can restore the ones you lost just now – even if it would be more to my benefit than yours, if you only knew.”

 

“How so?”

 

“We have been living together,” the man explained. “You are very kind to me. If I restore those memories, perhaps that wouldn’t be right.”

 

Frankenstein considered this. It didn’t make any sense. Why would he be – ah, that did explain a few things.

 

“I don’t remember your kind, do I? In my current memories?”

 

The man shook his head. “No, not consciously so.”

 

“Then make me remember this too. Restore everything you can.”

 

“It will cause you pain,” the man said apologetically. Guilt and pain seemed to weigh heavy on him and Frankenstein could _feel_ it.

 

He didn’t _want_ to. He brushed it aside and bared his teeth in defiance. “I don’t care. Restore everything that is within your power to do so. Save my life too, if you can. If you feel so bad.”

 

The man started. “I can’t – I’m unable to interfere with the natural order of things.”

 

“It sounds a lot more like you don’t _want_ to rather than you can’t. And what,” Frankenstein said bitterly. “Is natural about this?”

 

Indecision flitted across his features for a moment before his face hardened. He seemed to come to a decision and straightened himself. “All right. I will grant your wish.”

 

“Wait!”

 

They both turned their heads as someone shouted from the mouth of the alley. It was a tall, blond man – regal-looking – and yet another one of them. Frankenstein scowled at him, angry that he’d interrupt right at this moment. Just when he was about to make them pay for all the shit they had put him through.

 

“Raizel,” the blond ignored him in favour of the other – was his name Raizel? – and asked in a concerned voice: “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, this is my decision.”

 

“He is not in his right mind. He will not like it when he wakes up.” He did not look agitated; however, Frankenstein could tell that he was worried about _something_. Not that the human in front of them would gain a benefit – no, it went deeper than that. He wasn’t sure why he could tell, but.

 

“Hey!” He exclaimed. “Why would I not like the fact that my life was saved?”

 

The blond gave him a strange look: sadness mixed with regret, and something else he couldn’t quite place but he knew he _had_ seen it before. He _did_ know these people. He was sure of it. So perhaps there _was_ some merit in what Raizel had said to him.

 

“It’s my decision and his request,” Raizel said. He wouldn’t be moved now and the blond seemed to realise that as well.

 

“All right.” He stepped back without a single protest, resigned.

 

Raizel gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Lord.”

 

“You don’t have to call me that anymore.” The smile was returned, just as fond, and Frankenstein felt as if he was intruding upon a moment not meant for his eyes.

 

Too bad he was going to stay right here until the matter was resolved.

 

Raizel didn’t reply to him. Instead he closed his eyes and started _glowing_ , covered in pure white light that seemed to originate from behind him. It shone brighter and brighter until Frankenstein had to shield his eyes to avoid getting his retinas burned. A great wind stirred in the small space of the alley and Frankenstein watched, _fascinated_ , as the light coalesced into two large shapes, one on each side of Raizel’s back.

 

_Wings_.

 

Frankenstein couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

 

Raizel placed his palm on Frankenstein’s face, a touch so gentle and warm that tears welled in Frankenstein’s eyes. He wasn’t sure _why_ either.

 

“My life –” Raizel’s voice was filled with power. Something deeper and more ancient than mankind. “Is now your life. Your soul is now under my protection – I will not allow any more harm to it, not even from time itself. By the powers vested in me, I have the absolute dominion over death and _this is my will._ ”

 

The words wound around him, scalding him like a brand. It didn’t burn however – just weighed him down. He could feel it sink deep, deep inside him and he knew the truth. He knew what Raizel was, in essence, and it both terrified him and awed him. He shut his eyes and collapsed, unable to withstand the pressure that bore down on him from the might that seemed to flow inside him.

 

Before he completely lost himself to that overpowering surge, he was able to recognise it for what it was.

 

Raizel’s soul was very, very warm. So large that he had no chance of encompassing it in his puny human body, and yet Raizel had made sure he could withstand it, because it was also overwhelmingly gentle. So kind that he had given him a piece of it when he didn’t have any left for himself.

 

Frankenstein struggled to open his eyes, hold on just long enough to make sure Raizel was _all right_ , and of course he wasn’t. The wings disappeared in a burst of light and Raizel fell down on the ground first, his body nearly transparent. He didn’t even seem to be breathing anymore.

 

And Frankenstein knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had fucked up beyond comprehension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm...sorry? *flees*


	9. And Afterwards --

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankenstein has to come to terms with what he's done to Raizel.

Frankenstein came to himself with a loud gasp. He was no longer in that tiny alley. No, he had returned to his house that he shared with –

 

_Oh god, Raizel_.

 

He stood up, enduring the dizzying spell that threatened to scourge his stomach of its contents. He needed – he needed so badly to see Raizel. Because he couldn’t – hadn’t just ruined the only one good thing in his life, had he?

 

“Sit down,” the Lord said, tugging on his arm and pushing him down physically. “You’re in no state to walk around.”

 

Frankenstein sat down, numb. He couldn’t look Emsworth in the eyes. He couldn’t face any of them.

 

“Don’t blame yourself,” the Lord said kindly. His grip loosened. “It was Raizel’s decision.”

 

“No,” Frankenstein said with a hollow laugh. “I forced him. I know his nature – I forced him because even then I was aware of the way he works. I knew subconsciously.”

 

“The only reason he didn’t do this in the first place was because he knew it would bother you. But when you asked him yourself…”

 

“How is he?” Frankenstein asked dully.

 

The Lord’s expression turned grim. “He’s not dead yet.”

 

That didn’t comfort Frankenstein at all. He clutched the hem of his pyjamas – it seemed like they had changed him while he was out of it – and stared at the wall. He swallowed down bile and tried not to let any sound escape him.

 

“With a little rest, he will be all right,” the Lord continued, having given Frankenstein enough space to compose himself. “He won’t die just yet, because your lives are inextricably intertwined now.”

 

“So he will live,” Frankenstein repeated, voice raw and aching. “To sustain my life.”

 

The Lord nodded, agony writ on his features like a live thing. “As long as it’s in his power to do so. And when he cannot, he will find another way to maintain your life before he is gone forever.”

 

“I don’t,” he swallowed – tears, vomit, he was no longer sure what. “I didn’t –” He _did_ ask for this. He was the reason that this had happened. He couldn’t push the blame on anyone else, nor could he wash his hands off it.

 

“It would not do to blame yourself, when it isn’t your fault. He wouldn’t want you to.” The Lord placed his hand on Frankenstein’s shoulder, grounding him, bringing him back.

 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use your powers on me,” Frankenstein said, resenting the fact that he was feeling better. He didn’t _deserve_ to. “Not when it’s bound to hurt you.”

 

The hand didn’t withdraw, but the pressure behind it lightened. The Lord chuckled softly. “It seems wrong that I should stay untouched when he –”

 

“He wouldn’t want you to use that kind of reasoning,” Frankenstein said. “He doesn’t want to burden you when you are already supposed to be free.”

 

The smile on the Lord’s face died. He pulled his hand away finally and folded it in his lap. “You and he,” he began, then took a deep breath and sighed. “He gave you his soul, so in a way, you two are a shared existence. He had to make you this way so that you’d be able to withstand the pressure of his powers.”

 

“But not what torments him so,” Frankenstein said, feeling sicker as knowledge poured into him now that he’d learned to tap into it. “He accepted my pain too. Took it upon himself so as to spare me.”

 

The Lord remained silent. There was nothing he could provide as comfort, not even empty words. Frankenstein, for his part, now was in full possession of all his memories, everything that had happened to him, back then in the Organisation, every single thing restored to him because Raizel had willed it so. And yet, the only thing on his mind was what he’d put Raizel through. And how unforgivable it all was.

 

He deserved to die. More than anything, and yet, Raizel had ensured – on the cost of everything – that he wouldn’t. Frankenstein laughed at the irony of his own request, or tried, at any rate. It only came out as a horrible, strangled noise he could no longer control.

 

* * *

 

“Here,” he said, voice still thick and scratchy. “I made you some ramyeon.”

 

Raizel took the bowl from his hands and stared at the piping hot soup, the perfectly cooked noodles and the egg on top of it. His hands trembled only vaguely now. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

 

Frankenstein sat down next to him and tried not to openly grimace. It had been a couple of days and Raizel still looked so frail. He didn’t move much, he barely spoke and he wouldn’t eat unless Frankenstein really insisted. Frankenstein knew that eating human food wouldn’t nourish him, but it was a ritual between them and he was loath to break it.

 

He wasn’t inclined to talk about what happened between them either. Where would he start anyway? Asking him so many questions or remonstrating with him seemed like an awful thing to do. He felt that if he even spoke too loudly, Raizel might just disappear from the force of it.

 

His skin looked papery, his hair lank and his face was drawn. He was still in his adult form, unable to return to the smaller one because of how weak he was, even though it was painful.

 

“You do not eat,” Raizel said, taking a delicate bite from the meat he had put into the broth. “Yet you insist on feeding me though it benefits me none.”

 

‘I don’t know what else to do for you,” Frankenstein said, unable to contain the anguish in his voice.

 

“Not starving yourself would be a good place to start,” Raizel said. He hadn’t stopped eating however, so that was a good thing.

 

“I’m not starving myself. I did try to eat, today too, but it all comes back up. There’s no space inside of me other than the –” He cut himself off and bit his lip, drawing blood. It healed right away, much to his annoyance.

 

“Are you angry with me?”

 

“You?” What _an_ idea. “No, god, no. I’m angry at myself. For letting this happen. For draining your life. For hitting you and making you bleed. I cannot even count how many awful things I have done to you.”

 

“Not on purpose,” Raizel said gently after he’d finished eating. He set the empty bowl aside and faced Frankenstein with a steady look on his face.

 

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Frankenstein said. It was ridiculous that Raizel wouldn’t see his point, when he loved to blame himself for the wrongs someone _else_ committed. “Just because I wasn’t in the right mind or didn’t know what I was doing, it doesn’t absolve me from the crime of causing you pain. If you stab someone by mistake, it does not mean they aren’t going to bleed just because you didn’t _mean_ to hurt them.”

 

Raizel kept his silence then, either realising that what Frankenstein said was correct or not wanting to upset him further.

 

“Am I immortal now or something?” Frankenstein asked eventually. The question had been bothering him for some time already, so he might as well ask now that Raizel could feel well enough to talk.

 

“Yes,” Raizel said, choosing his words carefully. “In a manner of speaking. As long as I exist, there is no danger to you whatsoever. Even if someone were to burn you down, you’d be reborn from the ashes. Not,” he looked a little ill as he spoke, “that I wish that kind of thing to happen to you. However, if I die…”

 

“The Lord mentioned something about that.”

 

“Yes, if I can find a way to sustain your life with something other than my soul itself, you would continue living as long as you want or as long as that thing holds out.”

 

“If I chose to die now, would that fix you somewhat? Please don’t lie to me.”

 

Colour drained from Raizel’s already pallid face. He shook his head, unable to speak and hunched into himself as if Frankenstein’s words had physically wounded him.

 

“No, I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly, wringing his hands before reaching out and taking Raizel’s in his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

 

Raizel did not pull away, and for that Frankenstein was grateful. He cradled Raizel’s hand in his palms, gently, carefully and tried not to panic at how light it was. How insubstantial. Thinking of those things would only sadden Raizel and him, and through their mental feedback loop, it would only increase the misery on both ends.

 

“I knew it would cause you grief when I made this decision. If someone ought to feel guilty, it shouldn’t be you,” Raizel told him.

 

“No,” Frankenstein said. “Let’s stop this because no matter how much we argue over this, we can’t ever settle this matter. There’s another, more important issue that I’d like to address. What can I do for you now? Is there any way in which I can assist you?” It was a circular discussion, one that wouldn’t benefit the either of them. He’d rather spend his time trying to come up with ways to undo the damage Raizel had done to himself. However:

 

Raizel gave it some thought. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

 

Frankenstein’s heart plummeted to his stomach and he sighed. “Ah, so I’m really useless then.”

 

“No, it’s fine if you stay here. By my side. Unless…” There was a longer pause during which he seemed to mull over something. Then, Raizel said in a softer voice. “Unless you’d rather not.”

 

Frankenstein regarded him carefully. As always when Raizel wanted something but wasn’t sure he was allowed to have it, he’d look away, he’d act as if he wasn’t important enough or just try to make himself less conspicuous. It was both endearing and frustrating to watch, so Frankenstein made up his mind. He took a while deliberately because he didn’t want to come across as making a rash decision. He knew he wasn’t, and he certainly didn’t want Raizel thinking that.

 

He got up from his seat and got down on the floor, knees on the ground and elbows propped on the bed and continued holding onto Raizel’s hand. “I promise I’ll always stay by your side. Since I can’t die, that works out in your favour – and mine too, of course. I’ll never abandon you, this I promise. You gave me my life, so it’s yours now. It belongs to you – completely and utterly.”

 

Raizel did not reply at once. His Adam’s apple moved a little as he swallowed and then his face took on a full-blown blush. It surprised Frankenstein, but not enough to drop his hand or stop kneeling. It was a bit like him swearing undying loyalty to a king, and while Raizel was no royalty, he was actually something much, much higher. It made sense for Frankenstein to do it like this, in its own way, though he wasn’t sure Raizel was all that keen on it.

 

“Is that all right?” He asked, squeezing Raizel’s hand and smiling at him.

 

“Yes,” Raizel replied. His voice was just a little shy, just a little hesitant, but he could hear the note of happiness buried deep within it.

 

Too bad, thought Frankenstein, that he was stuck in this adult body. Had it been a child, Frankenstein certainly would have given him a long, warm hug. He could, still, of course but the idea of holding Raizel when he looked like _this_ was just a little bit embarrassing. He did hug him before in this form, but that was back when they hadn’t known each other like this. They weren’t this close either.

 

He could also feel Raizel’s presence in his mind, now, just on the periphery, and the dense ball of warmth that resided within him now, where his power thrummed incessantly. It was strange, something so foreign embedded deep into his body – and yet, it was neither invasive nor uncomfortable. It was as if Raizel’s soul had blended seamlessly with his and completed it, filled the vacancies that every human being seemed to have. Why else would people go all their lives, searching for something that always seemed beyond their grasp? Frankenstein had finally found it, however.

 

He did not feel lonely, not even when Raizel had not woken up and he’d felt really, really miserable. Even in those moments, he could feel another within himself, trying desperately to provide some comfort. Was that how it was supposed to be when you were loved? Because what else could this be, if not love? The deep and unnameable emotion that Raizel felt for him, it _had_ to be love.

 

Unselfish, giving and needlessly kind.

 

Just like Raizel himself.

 

It should have been terrifying, to be on the receiving end of such an intense feeling, and yet it wasn’t. Frankenstein had spent a long time away from people, laying low and not wanting to connect to another human being. His time in the Organisation had left him incapable of _feeling_ for anyone in any capacity, or so he had thought anyway. Innocent children were his weakness, and he had known it. Was it strange that Raizel’s form had been that of a child and he had been drawn to it pretty much immediately? He knew it wasn’t by design. The smaller the form Raizel used the less power it cost to maintain.

 

Besides, a child’s form was naturally something that was pure and guileless, so it was perfect for a being like Raizel. He hadn’t been able to see it before. But when he looked at him _now_ , being able to almost see through him – in more ways than one – he knew it to be true.

 

When Raizel hadn’t left his position, when he hadn’t lost his glory and might, his job had been to take lives. He had power over all living beings, and he was their guide in their last moments on earth: a psychopomp. It wasn’t as much that he brought death – no, it would be more accurate that he gave them peace when they had none as long as they dwelled on the earth.

 

As a being of power, of course he wasn’t attendant to every single living soul on the earth. He was ubiquitous: his power spreading over the cosmos and able to touch every single living thing. The scope of it was _terrifying_ , and yet sitting here, in front of Raizel, looking into his tired face, he didn’t feel any such thing.

 

No wonder he had been able to tear Frankenstein’s soul away from the natural cycle of death and rebirth. He had _power_ , but he was no longer allowed to make use of it, and yet he had for Frankenstein’s sake. He really shouldn’t have.

 

“Frankenstein,” Raizel spoke, curling his fingers around Frankenstein’s hands and holding them close. “Don’t let my past weigh on your conscience. It was a choice I made for myself, you have nothing to blame yourself for.”

 

The sincerity of Raizel’s words was almost too much to bear and Frankenstein raised their joined hands to his face, hiding it from view and shuddered. No matter how much Raizel tried to reassure him, he knew what he had done. While he knew that the decision to save him was made by Raizel on his own free will – and that was important to him – and yet Frankenstein _knew_ that if Raizel hadn’t been the way he was, Frankenstein might have manipulated him into doing such a thing for him regardless of the consequences.

 

A being of power, like the _Others_ , the ones that had hurt Raizel so terribly, they had destroyed Frankenstein’s life. Why would it have been wrong to take advantage of one such as them? Raizel was blameless, yes; however, Frankenstein hadn’t known that. He’d felt it, because Raizel’s aura was far too pure, but was it something he could have really trusted? When he had all his memories, like right now, he couldn’t even an ounce of affection for anyone who possessed powers that weren’t human. Except Raizel.

 

He had wandered the earth, like a puppy that hadn’t even opened its eyes, so lost and confused without his memories, without access to much of his intellect and _knowledge_. He had been an easy prey for the likes of the Lord and his followers. They had manipulated him into working for them, and yes, he had been so muddled, so resigned to his fate that he had agreed. If he could see them now, when he was no longer aching from the guilt of having hurt Raizel, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

 

Had he met Raizel when he was fully aware of himself, would he have manipulated him from the _get-go_?

 

The thought scared him. To think that his real personality was what he had been in that alley, coolly assessing Raizel’s personality and exploiting it instead of the kind, gentle self he had displayed when he had first met that lonely child in an abandoned castle?

 

Frankenstein’s knees ached from kneeling for so long and his eyes stung. Guilt clawed at his insides, peeling away layers and layers of self-assurance he had covered himself with. How could Raizel even _stand_ to be in his presence when Frankenstein had –

 

Raizel wrapped an arm around Frankenstein’s shoulders and pulled him up, displaying strength that shouldn’t be possible, and drew him close. It wasn’t a proper hug, no, but it achieved what Raizel had wanted from it, on the surface. It calmed Frankenstein down despite himself. He buried his face into Raizel’s shoulder and let himself be comforted by the one he had wronged the most, eyes dry and head empty of all thought except of how _close_ Raizel was.


	10. Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Frankenstein nor Raizel could ever catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, RL was really busy and I had no time to update this, but here it is! Enjoy.
> 
> I'm so sorry for making poor Frankenstein suffer so.

It was hard to get himself to eat again, and for sure, he could just starve until his body repaired itself. He was tempted to test just how much he could put his body through before the regenerative powers he had gained from Raizel’s intervention kicked in. If it hadn’t come at such a cost, Frankenstein would have already started experimenting and finding out the best way to utilise it against his enemies.

 

Food tasted like ashes in his mouth and even the thought of revenge was cold comfort. He ate, if only to reassure Raizel that he wasn’t trying to rebel against what Raizel had done for him. A part of him wanted to, but he had crushed it as soon as he’d thought of it. Raizel wasn’t a valid target to vent his frustrations.

 

Frankenstein cooked and cleaned, because doing housework was all he had left for himself. At least when he didn’t have his memories, he spent hours poring over the scant few he _did_ have. He would sort them, catalogue them painstakingly and obsess over little details. He had read his notes. Even for one in such a disadvantaged position, he had tried his best to survive, to resist his fate and fight what had been inevitable.

 

None of that mattered now.

 

Again, he had made too much food. More than he was willing to eat and more than what Raizel would willingly partake. He still took meals up to Raizel – for he was unable to come down with his own strength – and he watched over as Raizel ate. It was the only time he felt even a little bit of peace, and he suspected that it was why Raizel would eat whatever Frankenstein brought him. He wouldn’t even refuse green vegetables right now, though Frankenstein did not have the heart to test out that theory.

 

He set two plates on a tray, one for himself and one for Raizel, and walked upstairs. As soon as he entered Raizel’s room, his phone started to ring and he almost let go of the heavy tray in surprise. Who would call him? Who even knew his number? He placed his burden on the side table and plucked his phone from the back pocket.

 

It wasn’t a number he had seen before, but it was at least not from outside the United Kingdom. He dithered in Raizel’s room for a few more moments before excusing himself and taking the call right outside the door.

 

“Hello,” he said, shutting the door behind him so that Raizel wouldn’t be able to hear. Not that he could prevent him from finding out, but.

 

“Dr. F?” A familiar voice and Frankenstein found himself tensing further. He’d forgotten about these two because of all that went down. “This is M-21.”

 

“Yes, what is it?” He asked.

 

“The kids, they have been kidnapped again.”

 

Frankenstein almost dropped his phone. _Oh no_. “What?”

 

“Jake and Marie,” M-21 whispered over the line. “They caught wind of our activities as they were also in the same country and they decided to _clean up our mess_.”

 

Frankenstein did not know what to say. Or do, for that matter. Given his current predisposition, he did not really care if a bunch of kids got themselves kidnapped. And knowing those two, they’d certainly end up dead within a few hours. He just didn’t know if Jake would shoot them or pummel them to death with his fists alone. That was the kind of man he was and Frankenstein had never liked him. Still, he shouldn’t care. Immortal though he may be, he had no desire to out himself to the Organisation and lose his normal life.

 

_What_ normal life, he asked himself, disgusted.

 

“Where are they?” He found himself saying into the speaker. There was no way he could abandon a bunch of innocent children now, could he? No matter what kind of a monster he was. He did not know what he could do for them either, but he had to try, or else he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. And considering he was immortal, that would be a hell of a lot time spending loathing yourself.

 

Over the line M-21 told him everything.

 

* * *

 

The children came from a kind world, a gentle world where they could go to school, have friends and normal problems like exams and love troubles. Frankenstein wouldn’t presume that their lives were easy, but he could at least think that they didn’t have to struggle for survival like he and the other children caught by the Organisation had to. Like he had to. He would never want such a fate for someone else.

 

And for that purpose, he was willing to go out and do something about it.

 

He set everything in order and put on some nondescript clothes. He would have to take the train the London and then find the address M-21 had provided him with. He just hoped the kids wouldn’t already be dead by the time he got there. The only thing left for him to do now was to slip out of the house before Raizel got the wind of this. He knew that Raizel would also want to help the children – there was no way he wouldn’t. Using more powers in his condition wasn’t going to do him any favours either.

 

He picked one of his journals and tore an empty page out of it, scribbled a hasty apology and bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what Raizel would think of it. He should probably call someone to make sure that Raizel was okay. Frankenstein would return, of course, but in what state, he did not know. If he failed to save the children, he might not be ready to face Raizel. But abandoning Raizel was not a good option either. No, it was the worst possible thing to do to him.

 

But how could he face Raizel if he failed to save the sweet children who had been so nice to him? They hadn’t known back then whether Frankenstein was involved in their kidnapping or not. And yet, they had chosen to trust them simply because.

 

Whatever they saw in someone as worthless as him, Frankenstein did not want to let them down.

 

He folded the note neatly and walked to Raizel’s room, intending to slip it below the door and then leave. He hesitated only briefly, and that was enough time for the door to swing open and Raizel’s pale face to peek through. There was no accusation in his face, or reproach. He just glanced at the piece of paper in Frankenstein’s hand and then back up at him.

 

“I’ll come with you.”

 

“No,” Frankenstein replied immediately. “You can’t. You’re –” He hadn’t even been able to go back to his child form.

 

“I won’t be a burden, I promise,” Raizel said. He opened the door completely and came outside.

 

“Please,” Frankenstein was almost begging. If that was what it took, he had no reservations about going on his knees and pleading.

 

“I have to go, Frankenstein.” Raizel’s tone was apologetic yet firm. Frankenstein could readily sympathise with the Lord now, remembering how Raizel had shot down his attempts to do Frankenstein’s bidding as well.

 

Still.

 

“Should we call Ragar then?” Frankenstein gave up. He could see how much of a strain it was to simply stand up for Raizel. And yet he was determined, so Frankenstein couldn’t disrespect his will. He couldn’t insult him by constantly asking him to step back. Raizel had always been far too kind to everyone except himself. “For faster transportation.”

 

Raizel nodded. Frankenstein sighed and waited as Ragar materialised from the thin air, not even bothering to make his entrance subtle. Raizel’s summons had to have been urgent then. As he understood now, Ragar’s speciality was speed and he was the one responsible for doing all the legwork in the realm of these beings. It was certainly handy that he could still do short-distance teleportation, even though he had given up all his other powers.

 

There was no need to explain anything to him either. He wasn’t fussy like Gejutel. Besides, none of them would disobey Raizel’s direct orders.

 

Raizel and he placed their hands in Ragar’s and the world fell away, fading into non-existence for a few brief dizzying seconds, and then rematerialized, depositing them on the sidewalk next to their intended destination. Ragar pulled his hat down and looked at the building.

 

“Are you sure I should leave, Sir Raizel?” He sounded reluctant.

 

“Yes.” But of course Raizel wouldn’t wish him to use his other powers by accident and cause him pain. Ragar, too, could not argue with Raizel, nor did he try unlike Frankenstein. He simply bowed respectfully and disappeared, promising to return to pick them up later.

 

Frankenstein and Raizel entered the building without further discussion, each able to tell what the other was thinking, and began their rescue mission.

 

* * *

 

When Frankenstein had still been in the Organisation, he worked mostly as a chemist. He was gifted with good memory, and he’d had great luck with synthesising and discovering new kinds of poisons. He also dabbled in raising bacteria cultures and spent the rest of the time experimenting in bio-weapons. Of course, he wasn’t the only one doing it. There was Dr. Crombel, Dr. Aris, and of course, Ignes. Ignes wasn’t a _real_ scientist, since her father refused to let her work on her own. He was overprotective and overindulgent, and that had led to Ignes having a warped personality. Frankenstein suspected that she was warped from the start, however, as he hadn’t had that bad an impression from her father, Rocitis. He was no Urokai, after all.

 

Of course, now he knew that Rocitis had been one of traitors. And the fact that he’d betrayed Raizel and the Lord over Ignes.

 

They all worked with the Eighth Elder, under his direct supervision. Except, Frankenstein had immunity granted to him by the First Elder, so the Eighth had never been able to get his grubby paws all over Frankenstein.

 

Frankenstein did not know what had led to the First granting him such a reprieve. It wasn’t as if he’d ever gone face to face with him, or was it a her? He had no idea.

 

Back then, Frankenstein did not really care. All he focused on was to make sure to stay afloat in the petty rivalries between the scientists, the attempts to sabotage each other’s research and take it for their own, and then oust anyone who appeared to falter. The entire system was self-defeating and Frankenstein understood, now, why they had never made headway with things.

 

Frankenstein spent most of the time cooped up in his lab during the day time, and during the night, he’d go out in the training grounds and train his body. He couldn’t just be on the top of his game mentally; he also needed his body in good shape in case he ever managed to escape – which he had, eventually.

 

The chance had come when he and an entire team of grunts was sent with him to a sleepy town on an island in the pacific. There was only indigenous population over there, with scant tourists scattered over the map. It was an ideal place, according to the Eighth to test their latest weapon. If something did happen and they all died, everything could be blamed on a sudden outbreak of disease.

 

Frankenstein was tasked with mixing the entire suitcase worth of vials – full of the poison he had concocted himself – into the water supply of the town. Fortunately, he knew that a lot of the people who were the original inhabitants drew their water from the river on the island, but the outsiders and people who didn’t work the land, they got their water from the water supply. The Eighth had asked to poison the river itself, but Frankenstein had argued that it would require a mass production of a substance that they didn’t even know would work. It was better to test the waters first, so as to speak, and then go full-scale.

 

The eve of their departure, Dr. Crombel came into Frankenstein’s private quarters. As a rule, he had enough authority to go anywhere he wanted, but everyone knew that Frankenstein did not enjoy anyone’s company. Anyone that was high up in the Organisation, and it was a point of contention often. Frankenstein always drew a sort of perverse joy in how frustrated they all felt with his position and untouchable self, as much of that had been projected by Frankenstein himself.

 

Frankenstein greeted Crombel perfunctorily, and continued packing his bags. All his journals were secured inside a flash drive, hung around his neck in a dainty silver chain. It once belonged to Tesamu, and well, he did not wish to dwell on that.

 

“F,” Crombel said, leaning against the door and regarding Frankenstein with open hunger in his eyes.

 

Frankenstein suppressed a shudder and folded more clean laundry so he could place it inside his suitcase. “Dr. Crombel,” he returned with ease.

 

“What a shame that you’ll be gone for a while. I asked the First Elder to let you be accompanied by a good bodyguard but as usual, my request was refused.” Crombel laughed a little. “I had suggested Yuri, so as to remove my influence, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

 

“The First Elder knows that I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. Yuri works for the security detail of the other Elders, no need to bother with a lowly scientist like me.”

 

“Frankenstein, you devalue yourself too much,” Crombel said and sauntered into the room. He placed a hand on the open suitcase and smiled, knife-sharp and poisonous. “I wouldn’t send you to such unimportant missions.”

 

“I know,” Frankenstein said, finally turning around to look at Crombel. “That you’re next in line to become an Elder, Doctor. But I have no desire to become your lackey. I’m happy as it is.”

 

Crombel’s grin widened, losing all the humour it might have once contained. He kept it up for a several tense seconds before he tilted his head in acknowledgement and left without another word. Frankenstein closed the suitcase and sat down on his bed, exhausted. It was becoming harder and harder to keep Crombel at bay. The moment he ascended to the seat of an Elder, he would have a lot more clout. And with his cunning, Frankenstein was sure that he’d just wrestle Frankenstein out of the First’s hands. He knew that Yuri possibly worked for Crombel too, though he had no proof to back it up.

 

There was also Dr. Aris, of course. She would have cut him open that one time had it not been for Frankenstein’s well-honed reflexes. She hadn’t cared for the First Elder’s orders either. But she was a brilliant scientist – though Frankenstein had his doubts about that, as her mind was also scrambled by the Eighth Elder to suit his fancy often – so there wasn’t much done to punish her either for playing with the First’s toy.

 

It wasn’t an active protection either in any case. The First had simply outlined his position within the scientific wing of the Organisation and left it at that. Frankenstein was mostly on his own, and while he used those words freely, he knew that sooner or later something would give.

 

Hence the current situation.

 

He flew out of the base next morning, his breakfast sitting in his room congealing untouched, and the taste of bile still lingering in his throat. He was going through the withdrawals of the drugs they kept him on and as result, every nerve inside his body screamed from pain. He’d have to take the injection after the flight to keep it going longer. He wasn’t allowed to bring a bigger dose with him outside the base, and that meant he’d have to finish the job and return in three days or risk going into another set of withdrawals.

 

As it was, he was keeping it for the time when he wouldn’t be able to bear with it anymore. He clutched desperately at the small case placed on the next seat and looked steadily out of the window. The plane was mostly empty, all the members of his team in the class below. He outranked them by far and they wouldn’t dare sit in the same space as him, even though he was known to be nicer to the people on the lower rungs of Organisation’s hierarchy.

 

He threw up twice before the plane finally landed and he was hit by the tropical heat as soon as they deplaned. At least it helped conceal the sweat beading on his brow and the clamminess of his skin. The feeling of malaise only deepened as he looked at all the people around him in the resort itself where he’d be staying. He knew he was going to be responsible for their fates in the next twenty four hours, and the knowledge sat like a heavy rock inside his gut.

 

Frankenstein didn’t eat that day either, because the mere thought of food was making him retch. The withdrawal symptoms were getting worse and worse but he didn’t want to give in and use the drug. He’d be okay then, but it would come at the expense of his mind and conscience. He knew that once he took it, his morality would be compromised. He’d do as he’d been told to do, without qualms, and certainly, in his younger days, he’d resorted to the numbing effect of the drug.

 

Except later when he was able to think right, he’d realised just how casually he had sacrificed hundreds – even thousands of people without remorse. He’d done it by wilfully blinding himself. So he’d always take the drug with him, only taking it once the mission was accomplished. He didn’t want to forget or look away. He didn’t want to forget his sins like he’d forgotten other things.

 

He spent his evening cooped inside his room, typing on his laptop to record the events until now and tried not to move around too much. At eleven in the night, one of his men knocked on his door and signalled him to start the mission. Frankenstein put on his clothes, hung the flash drive from his neck and went to the overhead water tank. It was perched atop a hill next to the resort and next to it was a steep fall into the jungles below.

 

As the men worked to unscrew the lid open, Frankenstein stared desolately out at the expanse of green treetops dark under the faint moonlight. It was hard to stand, though the stiff breeze helped dry his sweat and ground him. His mouth tasted foul. And he wondered, not for the first time, why he did this to himself. He knew why, had justified to himself, but when it all came down to it, it was tempting to take the easy way out. Who would blame Frankenstein for being weak?

 

Well, except for himself, that is.

 

Frankenstein sighed a little and opened his briefcase. The vials were arranged inside a frame to keep them intact, and he brought out three of them – about a quarter of them, that was – and cracked the fragile glass neck on the edge of the water tank. Pouring them wasn’t strictly his job, but he didn’t want to taint the hands of others with his sin. He was the one who had made it, so he might as well go all the way and finish the job.

 

They came down from the hill afterwards, and Frankenstein collapsed the moment he returned to the room, unable to take the drug as he’d planned to.

 

The next morning he woke to an uproar. He dragged himself to the window, groggy with sleep and weak with the constant onslaught of pain from withdrawal, and saw that the front of the hotel was littered with _corpses_. The experiment was a _huge_ success. The bodies were disfigured by boils, and a fetid stench wafted from them, making Frankenstein gag even so far above. Just a few millilitres of this stuff, and the scale of devastation was beyond his comprehension.

 

Frankenstein sank to his knees and spent the morning with his face buried in his knees. He didn’t feel sick, nor did he cry. There was only emptiness inside him where once his humanity might have dwelt. The only thing he could count as relief was that nobody had the formula for his latest invention. He’d promised to log it once he deemed it a success – and what a _great_ achievement this was.

 

The relief was short-lived, he knew, because the moment he stepped back into the fold of his base, he’d be forced to log and reproduce the stuff upon demand. If he refused, he’d be forcefully drugged and made to comply, and that hadn’t happened for several years already. No, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t. The Organisation had started to research into bioweapons only lately, and if this thing went live, they could hold entire cities hostage if they so chose.

 

But where could he go also? On this isolated island with no way out without attracting the attention of other agents. Besides, how far could he go without the drug anyway? The drug. Frankenstein looked at it, feeling fury build up inside him. He snatched the tiny case and smashed it against the chair, breaking it open and the small bottle of colourless liquid fell out. It smashed upon impact with the ground and the drug spilled wantonly on the floor. Frankenstein watched it with a sick sort of fascination as he knew that he’d thrown away his only chance at oblivion, but he knew the cost. He had always known.

 

He couldn’t stay here.

 

Frankenstein staggered to the door. There was one of the guards from his team stationed outside. He looked at Frankenstein in concern but Frankenstein waved him away, saying he wanted to go to the water tank to investigate. The man acquiesced, but he followed Frankenstein anyway. It didn’t matter. Not now.

 

The breeze was even stronger today and Frankenstein stood to the side, leaning on the railings as his guard went to work, unbolting the lid and trying to open it. When he was sufficiently occupied, Frankenstein looked below, at the sheer drop and an entire sea of green. If he got lost in that, they might not be able to find him. But to get there…

 

“Doctor F!” The guard screamed as Frankenstein swayed on his feet, abandoning the tools in his hands to grab at Frankenstein.

 

But Frankenstein had already pushed his weight behind him, sliding over the railing and breaking the rusted bars under his weight. His stomach dropped as wind whipped his hair past his face. He was falling, about to die – but he would die a _free man_ , and that was okay.


	11. Avarice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a big difference between love and obligation.

Fighting Marie was a pain. They had found M-21 and Marie together, with her hands wrapped around his throat and about to choke the life out of him. Their cover must have been blown, Frankenstein realised with growing anxiety. He’d pulled her away and Raizel took M-21 with him to find Jake and the children, leaving him behind with Marie.

 

Marie was shocked into inaction after seeing him, and was unable to stop the others from leaving. But by now she’d recovered and anger was clouding her senses palpably.

 

“You traitor,” she said coldly, clenching her fists and getting into a battle stance.

 

One look at her and Frankenstein could tell she’d been using those other drugs the Organisation manufactured to boost a person’s physical prowess for a short period of time, by burning their lifeforce. He’d never taken it personally, but he knew a lot of the weaker members took it, either by choice or by force. The reason that drug existed was the M-series from which M-21 and M-24 belonged; they were the guinea pigs on which the Organisation had tested that drug before rollout. It was Crombel’s pet project and even Aris had used it, grudgingly.

 

Fighting her was going to be difficult. He was immortal, but that didn’t mean he could simply win from her on a test of physical strength alone. He could come back to life if he died, but that was _if_ he died. If she just shattered his limbs and left him here, Frankenstein would need a little bit of time to heal up and during that time she would catch up with Raizel and M-21. He had to finish her here, and fast, so that Raizel wasn’t forced to use his powers. Which meant the true issue was that of time, rather than of his ability to win. He could win, definitely, but at _what_ cost. No, he had to think of a way to end this fast and join up with Raizel.

 

As he circled her, dodging her attacks and kept himself on his toes, he could feel something stir in the air around him. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but as she kept on landing more blows on him – and he did return each of them with interest, but neither of them were backing down – the atmosphere around them seemed to become thicker and thicker.

 

Enough that he found himself distracted, eyes catching the vague but slowly solidifying shapes behind Marie. They were dark and dense, and as soon as he noticed it, he became distracted enough to stand there, unmoving. As a result, Marie managed to get into his personal space, and shoved her hand clean through his chest. Frankenstein gasped and reeled from the force of the blow, spitting blood from his mouth, he was aware of the dark shapes coalescing around him. He was unable to see for a moment, and in that instant, they _spoke_ to him.

 

They were souls. The souls of the people Marie had killed directly or indirectly. As a human who had Raizel’s powers inside him, he was able to see them and channel them, if he so wished. They wanted _revenge_ , and Frankenstein’s body was the perfect medium for that. It meant surrendering the control of his body to them for a while, and the idea didn’t sit well with him. However, the longer he thought about it, gagging on the coppery taste of his blood flooding the mouth, the more danger Raizel would be in. Therefore, the choice was actually simpler than he’d thought.

 

He was aware of grabbing Marie’s hand, though he had no control over it. He crushed her hand in his grip, making her scream. His other hand closed over her throat and broke her neck as if it were a mere twig. It was anticlimactic, almost, the way she died twitching weakly in his arms. He pulled her hand out and threw her body away, disgusted, but realising that the moment she died he was able to move his limbs again. He was thankful for that.

 

There was no more time to waste on Marie’s fate, though. He had to go help Raizel. However, by the time he got there, Jake was already dead and M-24 was lying on the side in a crumpled heap, M-21 sobbing over him. The children lay to the side, passed out – thankfully, and Raizel stood in the middle of it all, tall and regal, but the shadow of his pain still dogging him.

 

And then, right in front of his eyes, Raizel went and kneeled beside M-24, placing his hand over M-24’s forehead and began to glow. M-21 stared at him in horror, and Frankenstein did too, though for entirely different reasons. He had defeated Marie, but he was unable to help Raizel, and now _this_.

 

‘ _Don’t worry,’_ Raizel’s voice floated into his mind, trying to soothe him and calm him down. ‘ _I’m not going to make him immortal. Just repairing the damage he has sustained so that he may live_.’

 

It was true, too, because he didn’t need the wings or any of the other fanfare he’d used with Frankenstein. The precise moment when M-24’s breathing restarted, though, was when Raizel’s body tottered backwards and Frankenstein was beside him. He wrapped his arms around Raizel’s frame and crushed him to his chest, not even caring that they had an audience.

 

He wasn’t going to let Raizel fade away – not in front of his eyes, not like _this_. Not when he was too weak to protect them both.

 

Raizel placed his hand over Frankenstein’s arm and leaned into him, pressing his head to Frankenstein’s cheek. “I’m fine. Don’t worry yourself so much.”

 

“Okay,” Frankenstein told him, burying his face into Raizel’s hair and taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he repeated, though he felt anything _but_ that.

 

* * *

 

They ended up dropping the kids on a park bench next to a police station. It wasn’t that difficult considering the time of the night, and they also made sure to cover them up with blankets before leaving. Frankenstein wished to take them home and fuss over them, but he knew that wouldn’t lead to anything good. Besides, they had company.

 

M-21 and M-24 was sitting in the back of Gejutel’s Citroën, huddling under another pair of blankets. They were too stunned to ask questions, though Frankenstein could tell they had _many_. He asked Gejutel to drive them home – his and Raizel’s home, and took the faster route with Ragar. He had kept an iron grip on Raizel the entire time, and he only let go when Ragar deposited them in their living room, gave them a surreptitious look and disappeared, affording them the privacy they needed.

 

The moment he was gone, Raizel sagged in his arms and rested his weight entirely on Frankenstein’s chest, and Frankenstein was happy to support him, though it hurt him to see Raizel like this.

 

“Are you all right?” He asked, though it was a silly question at best.

 

He felt Raizel nod into his chest. A gentle hand came to rest atop the hole in his clothing, tracing the edge of the bloodstain left behind from Marie’s attack. He could feel Raizel’s relief as well a tinge of regret. He could understand the former – he was also glad to be alive after that encounter, but what caused the _latter_?

 

“It must have been painful,” Raizel clarified, answering the question in his mind.

 

“Not really,” Frankenstein said. “I’ve felt worse things, trust me.”

 

That only seemed to distress Raizel further, so Frankenstein scrambled for another topic and landed on something he knew would help. “Would you like to eat some ramyeon?”

 

“Yes.” Raizel’s tone was sweet enough to make Frankenstein put other things out of his mind for the time being.

 

M-21 and M-24 arrived in the wee hours of the morning, still terrified out of their wits – Gejutel’s forceful temperament had done them no favours – and they walked into Frankenstein’s house as if they were walking to their deaths. It was going to be slightly more difficult than he’d first presumed. They had seen Raizel display his powers to dispatch someone – something even Frankenstein hadn’t had a chance to witness yet. So it was understandable that they were scared, even if their fear made Raizel sad.

 

He herded them to the couch and sat them down, serving them hot tea right away. M-21 was still a little worse for wear, but M-24 was completely healthy, physically, at least, so that was good. Frankenstein did not have medical supplies here, since neither he nor Raizel needed it. He might need them now, and he made a mental note to ask Ragar to bring some over next time.

 

“I know you two are rather shaken up,” Frankenstein began, standing next to Raizel’s chair and put his hand on Raizel’s shoulder. “But I’m not going to hold you prisoner here. You’re free to go whenever you wish to. Of course, I’d like it if you two are recovered before that, but should you want to leave right now, that can be arranged.”

 

They both looked up at him at that, instead of staring at Raizel. This was the first time they’d seen him in his adult-form, so they were both confused and suspicious and Frankenstein couldn’t blame them.

 

M-24 clutched at his battered hat – he had rescued that from the rubble before leaving – and looked distinctly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat a couple of times, but M-21 beat him to the punch by speaking first, “He saved M-24’s life.”

 

“Yes,” Frankenstein said.

 

M-21 lowered his head, struggling visibly with words and clenched his hands. So, it was obvious that M-24 had to pick up the conversation where it had left off.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured hoarsely and bent the hat even more out of shape. “But I’m guessing it wasn’t something he should have done.”

 

Frankenstein winced. “Perhaps not, but it’s not something you should worry about. I’m glad he saved you.” It wasn’t a lie either.

 

The hat wasn’t going to survive this encounter at this rate. He knew he shouldn’t be fixating on that, but the open rawness of M-21 and M-24’s expression was too much to bear at this moment. It resembled his all too much when Raizel had rescued _him_ , at a much greater cost. He didn’t want to think about that. Not in the least.

 

“I’ve been wondering,” M-21 broke the uncomfortable silence then. “But is he the child who was with you that time, or am I slowly losing my mind?”

 

“He is,” Frankenstein said. He reached out to refill their cups so they had something else to focus on momentarily, at least. “As you can guess, he’s not really human.”

 

“We did guess that,” M-21 said dryly and took his fresh cup of tea. It seemed to help. “The Union has people like him too, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” As much as it hurt to admit. Frankenstein knew who they were too, now, and that didn’t help. Not in the least. If he could only get his hands on them…

 

“It doesn’t hurt to sit next to him anymore,” M-24 said, abandoning the hat in favour of his cup.

 

“That’s because right now my powers are far too diminished to irritate your senses,” Raizel spoke, eyes distant.

 

Frankenstein ignored the pang in his chest and put on a reassuring smile for the benefit of M-21 and M-24. “And you get used to it eventually, since his aura isn’t meant to harm you. When the knowledge sinks in, your psychic defences won’t kick in. It took me a couple of weeks to get used to them, too.”

 

“Huh, all right. That makes sense.”

 

“If you want to rest,” Frankenstein said, collecting their empty cups. “You can take one of the rooms in the house. Just leave the two on the right side upstairs, as they are ours.”

 

They glanced at each other, and then at Raizel and him, though the way they were thinking had changed significantly since they’d arrived. They weren’t exactly at ease, but their hearts had seemed to settle a little. After all they had been through – and Frankenstein had a fairly good idea exactly _what_ as he knew Crombel well – they still had it in them to trust a being of power to some extent. They were more generous than Frankenstein would have been in their situation.

 

It wasn’t like they knew how much Raizel had put on the line to save them, and it was best if they didn’t ever find out, as unlikely as that was should they remain here. He didn’t want them to feel indebted and let it weigh on their conscience. They had been through too much to feel that saving them wasn’t the right decision, because it wasn’t. If Raizel hadn’t done it, Frankenstein would have, no matter the cost.

 

“Why did you save someone like us?” M-24 spoke, startling both Frankenstein and M-21 as neither of them could have expected that.

 

But in hindsight, it made sense as M-24’s mind had been prodded by them just as Frankenstein’s had been, unlike M-21, so it wasn’t a surprise that he’d picked up on Frankenstein’s line of thought.

 

“If I can save someone, I will,” Raizel said, tone solemn and unflinching.

 

“We were the reason the children got roped into this mess.” M-24’s voice was full of anguish and he couldn’t meet their eyes. “If not for us –”

 

“You two risked yourselves to protect the children, for that I’m grateful,” Raizel said softly. He put his cup down and stood up, walking up to where M-24 sat. M-24 was a little skittish but he did not recoil at Raizel’s approach, so that was good. Raizel placed his hand over M-24’s shoulder, mirroring the way Frankenstein had kept his on Raizel’s shoulder earlier. He’d picked up on the gesture as meant to be soothing and was imitating it.

 

Frankenstein closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. His world was changing constantly, opening up and becoming kinder, and that was all thanks to Raizel. And the same Raizel was now extending that kindness to others, less privileged people than him, and all Frankenstein could feel was a deep-seated sense of relief. It couldn’t undo the wrongs the Organisation had done, but baby steps. It wasn’t Raizel’s power that saved him – it was his compassion and gentle heart. It had saved Frankenstein’s soul and he wanted to save Raizel in turn, not in gratitude.

 

It was out of love.

 

* * *

 

When both M-21 and M-24 had retired to one of the empty rooms, Frankenstein returned downstairs again to see Raizel standing in front of one of the French windows in the house and staring wistfully at the world outside. He couldn’t go out until he was able to assume the form of a child again, not just because of cover story purposes, but he was far too weak for that kind of thing. Frankenstein bit the inside of his cheek and went to stand behind him, just wanting to be there as he couldn’t do anything else for Raizel.

 

Raizel turned his head a little to acknowledge him and then resumed his gazing, the wistfulness melting into something warmer, softer. “I’m sorry,” Raizel told him in the intervening silence.

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Frankenstein said, voice thick with regret and grief. There had to be _something_ he could do to save this person, there had to be because Frankenstein refused to accept a reality where Raizel no longer existed.

 

“Earlier, you ended up communicating with the souls of that person’s victims, did you not?” Raizel asked to change the topic, noticing Frankenstein’s state of mind.

 

“I think so, yes.” Because of everything else that happened, he’d forgotten about that until now. “I’m guessing it’s because of you?”

 

“Yes, you can see and feel them because of me, forgive me.”

 

“No, that actually helped me settle the matter faster, so I’m grateful.”

 

Raizel frowned at him. “No, you shouldn’t be. That power is far too volatile and unpredictable for a human such as yourself. Too dangerous. I do not doubt your abilities, only the fact that nature of the dead is very unpredictable. The number of kills that woman had wasn’t high enough to introduce chaos, but if you end up facing the others from the same organisation, there will be instances where the sheer amount of souls will overwhelm you.”

 

He hadn’t thought of that, and he did not like the sound of it either because that time he hadn’t sought them out. No, they had come after him instead.

 

“They may not surrender the control of your body once they possess you,” Raizel was saying. “I no longer have the authority to guide them back to the otherworld, so they might take advantage of that.”

 

“Then I just need to learn how to channel their power through _my_ will, right?” Frankenstein said. “The bunch I ran into was able to find peace because Marie was dead. Maybe the others can too. If you can’t help them, maybe I can in your stead.”

 

Raizel looked stricken. “It’s not something you have to even _think_ about.”

 

But he had thought of that, and the more he considered it, the better it sounded. “It’s not an obligation, of course. I’m grateful to you, of course, you saved my life. But I won’t belittle your sacrifice by wanting to pay you back. And not because there’s no way I can return the favour, anyway. I want to help you because that’s something I want to do. It’s rather simple.”

 

The deep crimson of Raizel’s eyes was so much more striking in the early light of the dawn as Raizel stared at him, unable to formulate a response to Frankenstein’s declaration. It made Frankenstein cup his cheeks and draw him closer. He resembled a child again and it tugged at Frankenstein’s instincts.

 

“I’m doing this because I’m a selfish, cruel man. I’ve trampled over thousands of lives to survive – I should have just died rather than continued this existence the moment I realised what I was being made to do. I cannot excuse my past behaviour, even if I was under their influence. No, and because I’m _that_ selfish, I need you by my side. Not because of what you are, but because of what you mean to me. I want you to live just as you had wanted me to live.”

 

The cheeks under his palm grew warmer as Frankenstein’s words sank in. Raizel was _visibly_ affected, though he was still silent, Frankenstein did not mind that. They did not need words – but words were important, he knew that, and so he made sure to give them to Raizel right now.

 

“Can you grant this selfish request of mine?”

 

Raizel’s presence was like a balm to his soul, and if it was greedy to want him near always, Frankenstein was willing to be called that. Besides, it wasn’t the only reason he desired Raizel’s continued existence; it was just the most egotistic one.

 

“I will, if I can,” Raizel said finally, cheeks still dusted with pink and eyes hooded.

 

Frankenstein could no longer resist it. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Raizel’s forehead, just for a moment. When he pulled back, his lips tingled from the sudden transfer of power and Raizel’s body disappeared in a sudden bright flash of light. Frankenstein blinked, and when the spots cleared from his vision, he found himself looking at Raizel’s child form again, who looked as stunned as Frankenstein felt.


	12. The Most Important Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gejutel is a pain in the ass for Frankenstein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a while!

M-21 and M-24 took to child Raizel with a lot more alacrity than his adult form, much to Frankenstein's amusement. Considering he'd displayed the exact same behaviour, he wasn't surprised in the least. He had a feeling that Raizel's current form was perhaps designed – not on purpose, of course – to invoke maximum amount of protective feelings. If it could melt his heart, he could do the same for many others and M-21 and M-24 weren't exactly immune to it. They were kinder, sweeter around him, though they hadn't forgotten whatever he'd shown them while taking care of Jake. There was a hint of wariness still present.

The first thing Frankenstein did was to make space for a medical room in one of the emptier rooms of the house, having Ragar help him with setting it up. He didn't get a lot of equipment, just enough to take care of various kinds of injuries, stocked up on medicines and arranged for a space where M-24 could detox without hurting himself or others. He knew that the withdrawals would hit sooner or later, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. Raizel had mended his body, but whatever impurities were present beforehand hadn't been erased.

He didn't enjoy strapping M-24's body down, and from the looks of it, he did not either, inevitable though it was. M-21 hovered next to him the entire time, and when he backed off, the first thing M-21 did was to take his friend's hand. Frankenstein looked at it sadly and said, "He might break your hand if you're not careful – he won't have a lot of awareness when the withdrawal hits."

"It doesn't matter," M-21 said, not looking away from M-24.

Frankenstein nodded and left, trying to stave off the curious ache in his chest. At least they had each other – it was probably the source of their strength and courage that allowed them to step away from the Organisation the moment they could. Helped them retain the goodness of their hearts, and not end up become a cynical bastard like him. Frankenstein might have retained his innocence too, had only Tesamu –

"Frankenstein," Raizel spoke, small fingers circling his wrist and heading off that line of thought.

"Yes?" Frankenstein asked, lowering his arm so that Raizel didn't have to reach up to hold onto him.

"How is he?"

Frankenstein pinched the edge of his nose and glanced at the papers in his hand. "He's okay at the moment, the pain is bearable and he's not feeling too sick. Of course, it won't be the case come nightfall."

Raizel frowned.

"I can't give him any painkillers, not sure how they'd react to the drugs already in his system. We have to wait it out." He crouched down and cupped Raizel's hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Do you want to stay with them?"

"Won't he mind?" Raizel asked, hope wavering in his eyes.

"You can ask him if you can stay, of course. I'm sure he's already getting used to your presence, so it shouldn't aggravate his condition." Raizel had become attached to those two just as quickly, as well, and Frankenstein could feel his concern for them press against the back of his mind.

Usually Raizel was subtler than that.

He led Raizel by the hand and nudged him forward, watching from the doorway as Raizel approached M-24 hesitantly and asked his permission to stay nearby. M-24 smiled at him, eyes crinkling with fondness even though his lips were stretched thin from pain. Frankenstein brought him a chair and left all of them to it. It wasn't until he'd climbed down and entered the kitchen that he felt the weak flare of Raizel's powers. He snapped his head up to look at the ceiling below the sickbay. He had so little left, and every time he used them, it hurt, and yet he couldn't stand to watch M-24 suffer under his roof. It wouldn't completely ease all of M-24's agony, but it would help, certainly and Raizel gambled with his life on that slim chance.

And Frankenstein couldn't begrudge him that. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't, because of how _happy_ it made Raizel to see M-24 breathe easier. Frankenstein realised belatedly that he'd have to get better at healing people or else Raizel would continue to spend his precious life to protect the victims of the Organisation and it would get them nowhere.

He sighed and turned the coffeemaker off, making a note to take up an entirely new field of study. He had the perfect instrument to test it on, too, without the issue of consequences, thanks to Raizel's generosity.

* * *

Frankenstein stepped out of the local bakery with his purchase of fresh bread in hand, adjusting the bags carefully against his chest and was about to start walking towards his home that a police car stopped right next to the sidewalk. Frankenstein did not pay that much attention to it until the window rolled down to reveal a familiar face.

"Officer Yonsu?" Frankenstein greeted pleasantly, appearing appropriately surprised.

She wasn't fooled. "Mr. Lee, do you think you have some time?"

Frankenstein looked at the baguette popping from his paper bag and shook his head. "Not really, I have to get back home and start on dinner."

"Then can we talk at your house?" Yonsu pressed, eyes sharp and calculating. If Frankenstein gave her ground, she'd definitely keep accusing him, but if he resisted too much she would get unduly suspicious.

"No," he said firmly and made a show of thinking things over before saying, "Well, what is it? Can you talk about it here?"

"It's about the children you rescued," she said, moving away from the window and unlocking the car door so that the talk could proceed right here, making him wonder if that had been the objective from the get-go.

Frankenstein's heart sank. Did something happen to those kids again? "What of them?" He asked in a carefully controlled voice. It wouldn't do to let her know that he was worrying.

"They were kidnapped," she said, stepping out of the car and leaned against the vehicle, arranging her posture to display that she was the one in control in this situation. She was trying just as hard as Frankenstein, and neither of them was succeeding all that much.

"Again?" Frankenstein hazarded, letting surprise bleed into his tone and expression. He just really hoped it wasn't a third time, because that would be absurd. "How did that happen?"

"We don't know." Yonsu gritted her teeth. He couldn't imagine the beating her pride must have taken at that admission. "We recovered them safely though."

Frankenstein breathed a sigh of relief, sagging a little and looked at his shoes for a moment. Then he glanced up, settling on a hard expression. "And why are _you_ here? I doubt you'd come all this way just to let me know about their well-being."

"Well, I thought you'd like to see them," Yonsu said with an air of nonchalance. She wasn't a bad actor, except Frankenstein could see right through her as he was privy to more than she did. "They were injured a little, especially that kid Shinwoo."

"This isn't an invitation, is it, officer Yonsu?" Frankenstein asked, dropping all pretence. He was aware that Shinwoo had been injured rather badly, and it had chafed to abandon him on the street. "You still suspect it was me."

"Yes, I do." At least she admitted it, Frankenstein could respect that.

"So you want to lead me back to the children that you accuse me kidnapping?" Frankenstein asked, raising his eyebrow. "Do you think they'd identify me or something if I go there?"

Yonsu shook her head. "I know you hadn't left the town on the day it happened, and the kids described completely different people when I asked them. However," she paused for emphasis, before resuming: "You could have had someone else to do it for you. I won't arrest you or anything –"

"That's a given, isn't it, considering you don't have a warrant to do so, right?"

Yonsu bristled and crossed her arms, unmoving. "Yes, all I want is that you're somewhere I can see as long as those kids are still in this country. Once they are well enough to leave, I'll let you go."

"You realise that isn't exactly legal, because you'd be holding me on a kind of house arrest based on nothing more than a vague suspicion." Frankenstein pointed out, keeping his voice low so that the passers-by wouldn't realise what they'd been talking about. This was a small town and rumours could spread like wildfire if he let it. Yonsu was _counting_ on that, or else she'd have never agreed to talk here in the open.

Yonsu's face took on a slightly sly expression. "It won't be house arrest. You can bring your housemates with you, if you want. There are more people living with you now than before, isn't that so, _Mr. Lee_?"

Frankenstein didn't reply at first. He had of course run into problems with the law enforcement during his time at the Organisation, but they always had more clout so he always escaped without issues. That was no longer the case and Yonsu was persistent. She had good senses, just no way of discerning that what she'd sensed wasn't the right thing to go after. If she dragged M-21 and M-24 into this, it was possible the children would identify them. M-24 was still suffering from withdrawals and was in no state to travel anywhere. That wasn't even counting the extra stress they would go through should they find out about this.

Making up his mind, Frankenstein said, "No need. They are sick – staying here because of my employer while they recover."

"The father of that child you have been entrusted with?" Yonsu asked.

"…No, he's Raizel's guardian." He couldn't envision _that_ guy as Raizel's father no matter how hard he tried. Though he wasn't aware of their cover story, there was no way he could have said yes to that with a straight face.

"I see," Yonsu said. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, let's say at eleven sharp?"

"Right," said Frankenstein. "Eleven. I might as well see the children and make sure they are all right." He knew he'd confirmed at least some of Yonsu's suspicions by agreeing, but he had no idea what else to do. He could keep refusing and risk dragging his patients into this mess, or he could put up with it and deal with the consequences later.

They parted ways there, with Frankenstein stewing with enough rage to break something. It wasn't enough that M-24 was there, suffering right under his roof and Raizel was using his powers to keep him stable: no, he was being coerced into going to London under suspicion, and he'd be closely watched. He couldn't back out, however, without destroying the fragile peace Raizel had achieved here. They probably suspected that Raizel was either being held hostage or he was someone who was thoroughly involved in shady criminal activities. They couldn't be more wrong, but.

He wanted to take Raizel along with him. But then what would happen to the house and the houseguests they had? He supposed he could ask someone to keep an eye, but then he didn't want M-21 or M-24 to think he didn't trust them. Even if his intention was to leave someone to guard them, he didn't want them to think they were being kept under watch or held prisoner – he had more sense than Detective Yonsu.

He couldn't come to a decision by the time he reached home, and when he let himself in, he was greeted by Raizel's worried face. He was upstairs, having left his seat by M-24's side, and Frankenstein couldn't feel the slow drain of power from Raizel. So either M-24 was doing better than he had a couple of hours before, or Raizel had sensed the turmoil in Frankenstein's mind and came to see him instead.

"How's M-24," asked Frankenstein, putting the bread away and cleaning up the kitchen, if only out of habit. It wasn't dirty in the _least_ , but it helped settle his mind to clean it.

Raizel had trailed after him into the kitchen and stood at the side, out of Frankenstein's way, but still in his sight. "Not that well," he said, softly. "There's poison yet in his system that is taking its time – around two to three more days."

That was a long time to spend in constant pain and misery: Frankenstein knew, because he'd been through it himself, at least partially. He'd been too injured and too close to death to completely appreciate the full brunt of withdrawal, but it had made a bad situation even worse. It still hadn't taken him as long as M-24 was taking, because, he supposed, Frankenstein was a prized possession of the Organisation – they wouldn't dare put too many chemicals into his body and risk killing him. M-24 did not receive the same courtesy.

"I'll have to go to London," Frankenstein informed him, leaning over the sink and trying not to think too much about everything. He felt just a little overwhelmed by everything.

"For how long?" Raizel asked. He walked up to Frankenstein and placed his hand gently on Frankenstein's back.

"I'm not sure. They suspect we were behind the kidnappings, and they have threatened these two if I don't cooperate. The kids are at a hospital, recovering, and when they are healthy enough to fly, I can come back."

"I'll go with you," Raizel said.

Frankenstein glanced back at his earnest face. "But what of M-24? Are you all right with leaving him here?"

"Gejutel can take my place. He's the only one who won't feel the punishment of using his powers without permission."

"How so?" Frankenstein asked, puzzled. Wasn't it the same for all of these people? Why was Gejutel special?

"Because he's still working for the Lord, the current Lord, that is. He hasn't abandoned his position or sought retirement. That's why he can use his powers – not freely, but as long as the Previous Lord makes a request of him, he can spare some of it. It's something of a loophole," Raizel said.

"Because he can't move according to his will, but he can act upon the tiny window of opportunity this provides him?" Frankenstein asked, trying to understand how these people worked. He had a theory to formulate and a Raizel to save, after all.

"Yes," Raizel said. "He understands that it's the only way he can meddle into the affairs of humans without attracting impeachment and death."

"So he has some free will, then?"

Raizel appeared conflicted. "We all have free will, of course. It's just that we cannot act upon it unless we break the rules completely, and when we do, we're punished."

Wasn't that more cruel, Frankenstein thought, to be able to think for yourself but still be forced to stand by and watch? Wasn't that exactly what Frankenstein had been put through at the hands of the Organisation? He still retained his heart, but over his body he'd had no control and was forced to participate in so many things that he did not like. They were similar, then, in so many ways.

"Who makes these rules? The Lord?" But if he did, wouldn't he have done something about it when Raizel's life was in jeopardy? Why take such a roundabout way to save him, abandoning his authority to come hang around on earth so that Raizel did not fade away.

"No," Raizel shook his head a little. "The Lord enforces them, and I was the one who punished for their violations. It's because of my failure that we have come to this point. Had I still been up there, I could have taken the offenders out without any issues."

"Not like you would have enjoyed it, would you?" Frankenstein said, reaching for the kettle and setting it to boil. "Even if it's your duty, you're not the kind of person who enjoys killing."

"It's not about enjoyment," Raizel said in a solemn voice. "Duty is duty, and I failed in performing it. The consequences are mine to bear, not the humanity's."

Frankenstein turned around and looked at Raizel contemplatively. "What _did_ you do that was counted as a dereliction of duty?" There was no one as sincere, as steadfast and self-sacrificing as Raizel, so what could have driven him to abandon his post as the bringer of death?

Raizel looked away. Frankenstein felt guilt stab at his heart and he bent down, almost right away, and took Raizel's hands in his. "No, never mind. I'm sorry for prying. Would you like some tea?"

Not like Raizel would ever say no to tea, and if he did someday, Frankenstein would assume that the world was ending that day – and what could have been a better day to have tea, however?

* * *

M-24 and M-21 did not take well to Gejutel, predictably so. They had spent some time together in the car previously, and Gejutel clearly hadn't left a good impression on him. But still, he was the only one he could ask without causing significant trouble to them. Besides, it had been Raizel who had asked Emsworth – Frankenstein still thought of him like that from time to time – who had in turn made the request. Gejutel stood like a silent sentinel in the corner of the room as M-21 eyed him with wariness. M-24 was out for the time being, but while he was still awake, he'd only cringed away from Gejutel's piercing stare.

Raizel wasn't going to say anything and the two people under his care were far too intimidated and tired to take Gejutel on. It fell upon Frankenstein's shoulders to mitigate the situation. He supposed to he could have some fun riling up an all-powerful being and see where it got him. He was certain Gejutel wouldn't hurt him, but he wouldn't mind taking him on for a bout or two: he did have his new powers to test and refine.

Gejutel's eyes snapped open at the first hint of hostility and he glared at Frankenstein. But Frankenstein wasn't an easy man to intimidate; he crossed the floor in few easy strides and patted Gejutel's chest. "Loosen up, won't you? You're scaring them." He pointed at M-21 and M-24. M-21 looked like he wanted to protest what Frankenstein had said, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"I don't see why we're wasting so much time over a couple of humans, especially Sir Raizel in his condition."

"Wait, what?" M-21 said before Frankenstein could change the topic. _Of_ all the things he could have said, he chose the worst possible one.

"Nothing," Frankenstein said firmly and scowled at Gejutel. So much for not having free will: it didn't stop him from running his mouth.

Gejutel wasn't perturbed, however, nor did he take the hint. "Sir Raizel has taken it upon himself to soothe your friend's torment. It causes him to suffer in your friend's stead."

Colour drained from M-21's face as he looked between the assembled, before he bowed his head and struggled with the information he'd been given. M-21 and M-24 were different from Frankenstein – they hadn't chosen to the join the Organisation, they had that right stolen from them, along with their names and identities, their pasts. Their lives had never held a lot of value to anyone except their comrades, and for them to learn that their existence itself was a nuisance to someone – seemingly more important than them. Frankenstein clenched his fist.

"I'm – I'm sorry," M-21 said. "But please, let us impose on you awhile longer, if possible. Once M-24 recovers…we'll leave, we promise." His voice shook but determination didn't leave his face. "Or you could use me for whatever you want – if someone like me can be of any help. Just let him go."

"We didn't save you to exploit you," Frankenstein said before Gejutel could say something worse and piss him off enough to fight in his own house, destroying things he'd rather not destroy. He'd paid for all of this from his paycheque, not that someone like Gejutel could understand any of that. "We aren't doing you favour and we need nothing in return. Ignore this offensive old man."

The said offensive old man wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Whatever I did," Raizel said, finally breaking his silence. "I did by my own wish – you bear no responsibility."

M-21 was quiet for a while, eyes fixed on M-24's pale face. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and for once, Frankenstein didn't know what he could do or say to make it better. He wanted to yell at Gejutel, but what would that achieve? The only thing left to do was to leave, and let the situation resolve itself. However, M-21 had other ideas.

"Um," he began, awkward and fumbling in his speech, "I know it's not my place to say anything when you've done so much for both of us. We're not ungrateful, however," M-21 looked up and stared straight at Raizel. "You don't have to do anything that causes you pain. I have no right to lecture you, but think of the feelings of the people you are trying to save by hurting yourself."

Another hush fell over the room, but it was no longer an awkward one. Raizel looked stunned, for the lack of a better word, and Frankenstein couldn't believe what he was hearing, whereas Gejutel looked unbelievably _smug_ – the bastard. Had that been his plan all along?

"You are an important person, unlike us – I'm sure there are a lot of people who hold you dear." M-21 glanced at both Frankenstein and Gejutel. "If you can't consider our feelings, at least think of theirs. When you save someone at the cost of yourself, they might not always be happy. Back when we were in the Union, sometimes our comrades – others from the M-series – they put themselves into danger to shield the rest of us. They saved us, but they died faster than the others. I understand the pain of being left behind. M-24 won't die, thanks to you, but you have done _enough_. I'm sorry."

M-21 was ashen-faced and he was trembling, just a little, from the fear of what such a powerful being would do to him for all the disrespect, and it wasn't the fear for _himself_. No, it was for M-24's sake, and yet he had run his mouth regardless. Frankenstein didn't know whether to admire M-21's courage or feel envious that he never could muster it to say so to Raizel. No, he had simply let Raizel do whatever he wanted because he couldn't bear to say such things to Raizel's face.

"M-21 is right," Frankenstein said, picking up the cue right away. "I'm grateful for what you have done for me, and in return, all I ask of you is to value yourself more. I know you consider everyone's life important, and you respect their wills and you want nothing more to make sure everything is right in the world – but I've said this before, too, you're not responsible for everything that goes wrong. Nobody, not even you, can take on that kind of responsibility. Please, try to live a bit more freely, if possible."

Raizel blinked. He did not say anything in response, but his feelings were writ plainly on his normally pale and expressionless face. He fidgeted, just a tiny bit, probably not knowing how to absorb everything that had been said. Frankenstein cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself.

"Right then, with that being said, Gejutel, please take care of these two and the house. If something breaks," Frankenstein eyed him menacingly. "I'll hold you personally responsible." He sent him an unpleasant smile – without the edge that was there before. Nobody could call Frankenstein an ungrateful man. "Let's go."

He took Raizel's hand in his, leaving the house together, and if Raizel's grip on his hand was a little tighter than usual, he made no comment on it.


	13. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone acts unprofessional and things go as well as you could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this chapter is a bit late (blame long work weeks), here's a longer chapter. Hope everyone likes it!

A grey sheet of rain fell outside the hotel window and Frankenstein stared listlessly out of it, a deep melancholia settling inside his heart mirroring the weather. Raizel was not in the room with him, so he was able to let his shoulders slump, the smile fade from his lips and let his face fall into an expression of haggardness. It wasn't that he was hiding anything from Raizel, but to act troubled in front of him meant worrying him on top of everything and Frankenstein did not relish it. The window fogged a little with his breath every time and he would wipe it with the heel of his palm once in a while. It helped soothe his mind, the inane repetition and the act of clearing away whatever obscured his vision.

They hadn't been to see the children yet – hadn't been allowed, though Raizel had slipped into their room unnoticed to make sure that they were indeed all right. Frankenstein did not expect anything better. They had been put up in a hotel that had been recommended by officer Yonsu, and while Frankenstein was the one paying for it, exorbitant though it might be, he knew that the loyalties of the staff lay squarely with the force. It did not take a stretch of imagination to guess what would happen if he were to wander outside without informing her first. It irritated him to no end, but once the children were out of the country, he was hoping he could also go home. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of nostalgia through him.

He curled his fingers, reflecting on the fact that now he had a home, someone to return to, someone who would take care of him just as he would for him, and it was a cause of _joy_. Frankenstein hadn't known a home for so long that now he had it, he had no idea how he survived so long without it. More than anything, he missed the routine of his lifestyle, the unchanging repetition of things he did everyday was a blessing, grounding him and lending him a semblance of happiness. A part of him could never be happy, so burdened he was with the crimes he'd committed while he'd been inside the Organisation, the fact that he'd caused Raizel to lose so much of his precious life, without being able to do anything in return.

He wished Raizel wasn't gone right now.

Sighing, and because he was hungry, he gathered himself up and ran his fingers through his hair. He had even neglected to fix his appearance much today, he was _that_ perturbed by the recent developments. He groomed himself a little, put on proper clothes and went down to the restaurant to get a bite to eat. The tables were mostly full considering the weather outside, balmy and lit with warm colours that made it attractive to the people unfortunate enough to be out of their homes. He took a seat by the window, thumbing through the menu absently. He almost wished that the restaurant served some ramyeon if only because it would bring back a taste of his home.

The waiter approached his table then and cleared his throat delicately, throwing a shadow over the table and encroaching Frankenstein's space. He turned around, his mind still miles away and nearly dropped the menu when his eyes met the waiter's. He blinked once, twice, but when the phantasm in front of him refused to fade, he had to come to terms that what he was looking might actually be real.

It was a small child, no older than thirteen, fourteen years of age, but that wasn't what was surprising. No, it was the fact that he looked very, very familiar.

"Your order?" the little waiter asked, slightly impatient as if he couldn't be bothered with all this.

That _certainly_ reminded him of someone he knew quite well. He would have questioned the ethics of the hotel management for hiring such a young waiter, but this child – was it even a child? Frankenstein had grown quite sensitive to the aura of these beings, and he was certainly not a human, and now that he had noticed it, the child wasn't alone. There was someone else here with him. He looked to the side discreetly, noting a statuesque figure clothed in pristine white clothes, silver-haired creature of radiance. Frankenstein wondered what were they doing _here_ , serving tables?

"Your order, please?" the child repeated, a little tersely this time.

He pointed at a random item, a frittata, and nodded. The child gave him a look that conveyed his disdain quite effectively and then he marched off, just a little disgruntled. Frankenstein closed his eyes, tapped his fingers together and concentrated. It didn't take long. They really were children, completely untouched by humanity as it were, and they'd not noticed him giving away their inexperience.

When Frankenstein opened his eyes he found himself looking into Raizel's lovely ones. His face broke into a smile unwittingly and he let out a small breath of relief. Raizel's presence itself was like a balm to Frankenstein's bruised soul. Raizel acknowledged him with a small nod, and then he turned his gaze away to look at the two children busying themselves around the tables and managing it with enviable grace. Frankenstein had to stop thinking of them as children, because they were still older than him by a long margin, but he couldn't take off Raizel's perspective off Raizel's powers that easily.

"Those two," he began.

"They mean no harm," Raizel replied.

"I already noticed that," Frankenstein said, not unkindly. He could feel Raizel's protectiveness flare up, wanting to protect the two beings he'd adjudged as innocent with a single glance, even if Frankenstein didn't like it. But Frankenstein wasn't unreasonable: he was nice enough to Gejutel, wasn't he? "Is that little one related to Gejutel?"

Raizel gave another nod.

"What are they doing here in the human world? I thought you guys didn't involve yourselves in the affairs of men."

Raizel opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Frankenstein's order and the reappearance of the mini-Gejutel. The child noticed Raizel the moment he was done putting the plate down and his mouth fell open. For a brief panic-filled moment, Frankenstein was afraid that Raizel had been identified and it might cause trouble for all of them. However, in the next moment, a tiny blush covered the white-haired child's cheeks and he stared at Raizel in wonder. Frankenstein wasn't sure what to make of it, so he wisely refrained from commenting upon it.

Raizel grabbed the menu from underneath Frankenstein's hands and pointed at the vanilla milkshake and the child gave a vigorous nod, none of the previous hostility or coldness present, rushed off to get Raizel what he wanted. Frankenstein stared after his retreating figure for quite some time, before shaking his head and coming back to the topic at hand.

"Right, so, you know why they're here?" He asked, poking his frittata with a fork. It was hot and smelled pretty appetizing.

"I cannot be sure," Raizel said, putting the menu away and staring out of the window like Frankenstein had done earlier. "But I suspect it has something to do with the current Lord. She might have sent them to investigate the unnatural incidences in this area."

"You mean you?"

Raizel sighed.

Frankenstein took a bite of his food and chewed on it. He did not know the exact situation the previous Lord – the inimitable Emsworth – and his merry band of deserters and non-deserters were in, or where Raizel stood in the eyes of the current Lord. He couldn't grasp the scope of trouble they would be in if the Lord decided they were traitors and sent someone to execute them, but wasn't the previous Lord her father? And yet he'd kept all this a secret from her. He was so _tired_ of the drama of these celestial beings as it was and he didn't need _more_.

"Do you think it could become a problem?" He asked, looking at Raizel expectantly but received no answer. It could mean a variety of things and each worried Frankenstein more than the other. Either Raizel was planning to handle whatever trouble it caused, or worse yet, he would simply submit himself to their judgment. His silence told Frankenstein everything he needed to know – that was that he would make sure it didn't affect Frankenstein. He reached out, placed his hand over Raizel's small, pale one, and squeezed it gently. "You don't have to deal with it yourself. You're not alone."

He looked down in his lap to let Raizel compose himself, but he could feel Raizel's reaction it through their mental link and it warmed him inside out. The cold could no longer touch his heart, not as long as Raizel was this close and happy. He let go of Raizel's hand when his milkshake arrived and focused instead on his food. They finished their meal in silence and left together, fully aware of the two pair of admiring eyes that followed their departure until they were out of the view. The rain still continued to fall long after.

* * *

A call woke him up in the middle of the night, and when Frankenstein looked at the caller ID, a familiar feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He had started to associate only bad things whenever Yonsu called, and he certainly wasn't wrong in his apprehensions this time either. He ended the call a few moments and rushed down to the hotel lobby. Raizel followed him without prompting and Frankenstein did not stop him – he was far too preoccupied for that.

"How difficult is it to watch _four injured children_ when you have the entire Scotland Yard at your disposal, Officer Yonsu?" He asked the moment he saw her, standing in the empty lobby and his accusation made her bristle visibly.

"I don't have the entire Yard at my beck and call," she said irritably, then schooled her tone when she noticed Raizel was also present. "The children are unharmed."

"However?" Frankenstein prompted, because otherwise she wouldn't have disturbed him at three in the morning.

"Someone tried to break into their room," she said, her expression stormy. She was upset, whether at their own incompetence or at the fact that someone was still targeting the children, he wasn't sure. He felt a twinge of sympathy then.

"So you called me to make sure I wasn't the one doing it," he said quietly. He couldn't blame her too much, now that he was already here and under suspicion. If those children were still being hunted, it had to be the Organisation behind it, and if so, Frankenstein could understand their paranoia. They could be pitiless in their persistence and there was nothing more they hated than their agents to be revealed carelessly and not on purpose.

"Mostly, though I have you under surveillance so I know you didn't go anywhere. Neither did the people at your house, so unless you are running a crime syndicate—"

"Or have assassins on retainer," Frankenstein added sardonically, but Yonsu did not rise to the bait so readily. She looked far too exhausted for that.

"You couldn't have done it," she finished and sighed, tucking his hands in the pockets of her coat. "I have a feeling we have a mole or a leak somewhere, somehow, because we didn't reveal the location of the children _anywhere_."

Frankenstein didn't offer her an insight. He had none to give. If the Organisation employed spies, he wouldn't know of them, and most of the subterfuge they carried out was in the open so Frankenstein didn't think they did _subtle_.

"I don't want to mistrust my men," Yonsu was saying. "But like this we cannot send these children home. What if someone hijacks the plane? That would put a lot more people at risk, too."

Right, and they couldn't afford to send the children back home on a private plane because where would a public official get that much money from. If they involved the military, the South Korean government wouldn't abide by it either, despite the alternative. It was a tricky situation no matter how he looked at it.

"I understand," Frankenstein murmured. "Why are you telling me this, though?"

Yonsu flushed, just a little bit, and hunched her shoulders. "I'm sorry for bothering you two so much. And suspecting you, but," she said, stubborn to the end. "You cannot deny that your behaviour was somewhat suspect."

Frankenstein was willing to accept her apology. "Do you want me to help you?"

Yonsu's posture instantly went rigid and her eyes grew watchful. "What do you mean?"

There was no point in lamenting the fact that he'd rekindled her suspicions by volunteering help, but the lives of those children were at stake. He couldn't just stand by and watch. "If you don't want to distrust your men, you can put me in there. I can keep the children company and make sure no harm comes to them."

"You expect me to believe that a civilian like you could fight off some assassins? Or are you so stupid that you think I'd let you in where the kids are staying so you could carry out whatever it is openly?"

"Right, and since I'm not that stupid, there's no way I'd disregard you letting me off and stay." Frankenstein smiled pleasantly.

"Or you could be _really audacious_."

Raizel sighed, stopping Frankenstein from making another comeback to Yonsu. She looked at him again and her face became conflicted. "How could you help, assuming I say yes?"

"I'm an unknown factor in this whole thing. If there _is_ a mole, they wouldn't know what to make of me. You wouldn't put someone who cannot defend themselves with the kids, and rest assured I can defend myself to some degree. If it's a person, they wouldn't make a move unless they are sure of my origins. If they have hacked your servers, they wouldn't know of me and would attack anyway. I'm sure you can defend five people instead of four just as well." Which was _poorly_ , but Frankenstein wasn't trying to exacerbate the situation.

"It wouldn't be right exposing you to danger if you're really innocent," Yonsu said after a contemplative silence on her part.

Frankenstein was touched that she was concerned about him; however: "I care about those children as well, and I want to see them go home safely. I know I might not be of much help, but I'd like to try. You have my full consent."

Yonsu's eyes flickered to Raizel and she shook her head. "What will become of him if you get hurt?"

"I can ask someone to come pick him up before we go." Frankenstein turned to Raizel, silently imploring him to cooperate. Raizel could still follow them, so it wasn't like Frankenstein was abandoning him here. Ragar could come and make a show of taking Raizel away, and then they could watch the entire thing from the shadows, so as to speak.

"I don't really like this," Yonsu said. "This is also unprofessional. I will make inquiries into the mole issue once the children are gone. If we draw too much attention to it right now, the media will get on it and it's already starting to become an international scandal."

"You can think of yourself as Lestrade and me as Sherlock Holmes, and rest your troubled conscience."

Yonsu gave him an unimpressed look that conveyed exactly how much she appreciated his attempts at levity. Wisely, Frankenstein kept his mouth shut and let her go. He wasn't sure if she'd let him go with the children – she was very serious and devoted to her duty. She had good instincts, though she did not have the experience or skill necessary to properly utilise them. She was also not a huge stickler for rules or procedure, but was rather driven by her need to do her duty and protect the people she needed to, and that made her vulnerable to Frankenstein's harebrained scheme. If it was that other guy here, officer Sangeen, he'd have vetoed Frankenstein's idea then and there.

Frankenstein was slightly glad for Yonsu's nature being the way it was. Only slightly.

* * *

Before Raizel left, he was allowed to see the children. Frankenstein did not go with him, in order to keep his word that he wouldn't do anything suspicious. He didn't want to communicate the kids' location to his potential accomplices, in case he really was in cohorts with some evil Organisation – and _how_ Frankenstein wanted to laugh at the irony of Yonsu's conjecture. When Raizel returned, Ragar had already arrived. Yonsu had taken one long look at him, given Frankenstein another, and then she'd chosen to not speak at all. Sangeen – who was actually present for once – looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.

Raizel was carrying a banana in his hand, still unpeeled, and he held it delicately pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Frankenstein assumed the children had given it to him, but that didn't explain why Raizel hadn't eaten it already. Unless. _Ah_. He planned to teach Raizel more about fruits whenever they got to go home together. Whenever _that_ was.

When Raizel and Ragar were gone, Sangeen rounded on both of them with a displeased look etched on his weathered face. "This is such a piss-poor idea. What were you thinking?"

"If there's someone betraying us –"

Sangeen interrupted her, "There are other ways of ferreting out a mole. You shouldn't involve someone from the outside into this. It's bad enough as _is_."

"Those children need to go home, Sangeen," Yonsu said, quiet and subdued. "I don't want to scare them too much. They've suffered as it is. Suyi had nightmares two nights ago, Ikhan has become jumpy – this isn't okay."

Sangeen ran a hand through his short, grey hair and sighed heavily. "How long will he stay with them?"

"Just today – we're bringing them to a plane today. I've arranged for a flight that won't take a lot of people, and we're going to send some officers together. The sooner they leave, the better."

"We don't really need him to be there, do we?" Sangeen whispered to Yonsu, but Frankenstein could still pick it up. "If we're going to send them off today, there's no point in involving him."

"He'll be the one bringing them. We'll bring up the rear and make sure no one harms them on the way," Yonsu explained. "It's not the best way, but we might be able to catch whoever is behind it too, once they see that the kids are without an escort."

"You're going to use them as _bait_?" Sangeen sounded scandalised.

"That was my idea," Frankenstein cut in amiably.

"Unacceptable," Sangeen growled. "This will endanger everyone, including this guy. Do we really want to do this?"

"Sangeen, do you want to sit here and hide away while some criminal walks freely in _our_ city, kidnapping our guests and injuring them without even trying to catch them."

"I'm not saying we let them go." Sangeen's knuckles were white and he was beginning to look more and more upset by the whole idea. "But there is a procedure –"

"Procedure won't stop them from following after the kids and nabbing them in their own country. These people have shown themselves to have a lot of resources, and they are persistent. Do you want to lose your only chance at apprehending them because of procedure?" Frankenstein asked, folding his arms and tilting his head. He had to stop Sangeen from opposing them fully or else he'd never be able to protect those kids.

"You," Sangeen said, pointing his finger at Frankenstein, "are certainly full of insights."

Frankenstein swallowed a scathing remark and straightened himself. "You keep me in full surveillance. I'll take the children to the airport. If someone shows themselves, you can take care of them."

He was glad that Yonsu had committed herself to the idea of taking Frankenstein's help, so it was them against Sangeen, and as he'd learnt over the few hours he spent in her company, Sangeen was fairly weak to his wife's insistence. He agreed to the plan eventually, albeit with reluctance and made sure to add in a few warnings to Frankenstein in case things went awry. And Frankenstein knew, without a shadow of doubt, that if the Organisation was involved, awry would only be the beginning of it.

* * *

The explosion made the road cave in, making the car fall into the tunnels underneath meant for the Tube, but when the dust settled and Frankenstein had disentangled himself from the airbag, he noticed the considerable disrepair. It was one of the abandoned tunnels, then, so that was good. He didn't wish for their accident to cause trouble for public at large – more than it already had, that is. He looked back at the children, all knocked out, fortunately because of the impact and the explosion itself, but none of them was severely hurt. Shinwoo's arm was bleeding just a little, but that was only because the window next to him had shattered and scratched it.

He exited the car and pulled the children out, one by one, and took stock of them. They were dusty, hair matted with soot and ash, but they were breathing and Frankenstein was glad they were not awake. He moved them to a safer place so that if the road caved in further, they wouldn't be buried under the rubble. He wondered how long it would take for the police to find him, and if he wouldn't just be caught by the Organisation first. They wouldn't just plant explosives without having someone nearby to take care of any survivors. The explosion wasn't set to kill them either way, so the goal was to take the _prisoner_ , or so Frankenstein assumed.

Frankenstein looked around, trying to find a safe spot where he could stow the kids for the meantime and keep watch, but before he could, he heard footsteps. He gritted his teeth and pushed the kids a bit further away. He wouldn't call for help – wouldn't call for Raizel because he didn't need Raizel to waste more of his life. He could already feel the steady thrum of energy that signified Raizel's presence in his mind, tucked away in a corner, and he could feel how distressed Raizel felt. But as long as he didn't call for him, they wouldn't know right away where he was and he was banking on that.

They would find him _eventually_ , but Frankenstein planned to settle things before that happened.

Five figures emerged from the dimly lit tunnel to his side, and Frankenstein wasn't really put to ease by the fact that he did, in fact, know the newest arrivals from the Organisation. They were Dr. Aris', and that never did bode well for anyone, including the people themselves. They stopped a few metres away from him and squinted into the darkness, their faces showing various degrees of surprise as recognition settled in.

"Dr. F," Krans said, recovering the fastest from the shock of seeing the Organisation's top scientist – one who had been missing for a long time already – here, in a subterranean tunnel with their prey. "No wonder these kids were hard to kill."

"If I ask you to leave, will you go?" Frankenstein asked, already gathering the power he'd taken from Raizel to him. The mass of black, chaotic energy swirled around the small space they were enclosed in. It was extremely dense around a few of the DA-5 members, but that wasn't exactly news to Frankenstein. He could see it on the faces of the two who didn't wish to participate it anymore. Yet, they had hunted down four innocent children, and they weren't without victims of their own, so Frankenstein couldn't let them walk free.

"No," Krans said. "We'll take you back with us, however. Dr. Aris misses you." His scarred face twisted into a smile, and the other DA-5 members backed away, uneasy. Even Shark looked discomfited by the look on Krans' face, and Frankenstein couldn't blame him.

He knew he could technically take on all of them, but he did wonder how he would deal with so many at once. He couldn't just take on all the dead at once, and if he took them in one by one, he had no idea how he'd be faring once one lot left him. It was a huge gamble to take on such a large group while his powers were untested. Frankenstein stole a glance at the kids: no, he couldn't afford to hesitate here. It wasn't his life on the line – Raizel had seen to that, but if something happened to these children, he would never be able to face Raizel.

Before he could make his decision, someone landed lightly on their toes right next to him from the middle of nowhere. Light glinted off her long silver hair and as she stood up straighter, face completely impassive, Frankenstein realised it was one of those two children. The other child made his appearance a few seconds later, materialising out of thin air on the other side of Frankenstein, looking quite affronted.

He turned to look at Frankenstein. Power stirred around him, slithering around Frankenstein's body like wisps of smoke as the kid's eyes glowed to a bright red. "Sleep, human," he commanded.

Frankenstein only felt a very small push against his brain, nudging it towards sleep, and even if he'd wanted to comply – which he didn't – he couldn't have succumbed to it. Despite himself, he stared at the small child who grew more and more frustrated as Frankenstein refused to keel over. The power pressing against his brain grew more insistent, but the intent to harm was completely absent and as such, it was mild at best and not good enough to take out Frankenstein or even M-21 or M-24 at this point in time. A few awkward moments later, the girl shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed at Frankenstein the entire time.

"Regis, he won't be affected by such little power. This isn't the first time this human has met one of us."

Regis' eyes widened to a comical degree and he took a step back, fists clenched. "Traitors? You think he's one of them?"

"I'm not," Frankenstein said, stopping the both of them before the conversation derailed too much. "I'm just trying to protect these children." He pointed at the said children quickly, before pointing at the DA-5. "But these people won't let me."

"Krans," one of them spoke up finally. It was probably Tao, but Frankenstein wasn't looking in their direction just yet. "We should maybe do as Dr. F says? We can take him back with us, and leave these kids here. Nobody needs to k—"

The sound of Krans' fist connecting solidly with Tao's jaw attracted Frankenstein's attention. Tao was sent flying to the side as Krans retracted his fist and he kicked him away with his foot. "Don't be a fool, Tao. Are you scared of a girl and a child and good-for-nothing deserter scientist?"

"Krans," Takeo cut in, raising his hands in a placating manner. "They are just children. We weren't ordered to kill them, were we? We were sent to investigate, and we've already found someone far more interesting."

"Shut up," Krans growled. "If I have to kill you two along with these, I'll do it. Don't come between me and my prey again, understood?"

Before Krans could attack Takeo as well, Regis had already moved, fast enough that Frankenstein had trouble following him. His size might have been small, but that was no indication of the amount of power he had. He was able to beat back Krans, pushing and pushing him until they broke through one of the walls. Frankenstein glanced at the ceiling with worry, hoping it wouldn't collapse because of the weakened structure, though it was still only one of his problems. Taking advantage of the commotion, Shark and Hammer had lunged for the children, only for the girl to intercept them in the middle. She'd also moved with a speed greater than a human could achieve, but that was a given.

Frankenstein backed a little and crouched down in front of the unconscious children, shielding them from any incoming debris or bursts of supernatural power. Tao and Takeo had also moved to the side, choosing to watch instead of fighting. Frankenstein knew they would participate if they were called to do so by Krans, so he wasn't ruling them out yet. That did not mean he couldn't just talk to them.

"Tao, Takeo," he said, gesturing at them to come closer. "Get here or else you'll get hurt."

The girl had made short work of Hammer, who was now lying on the floor cut up in more places than Frankenstein cared to count. Shark was dodging around, but the small space in which they had to fight worked to the disadvantage of both of them, restricting their big, flashy movements. Shark had used the drugs the Organisation provided them with, and he was able to dodge some of the blows aimed at him, having seen her fight with Hammer.

Tao was the first one who came closer and sat next to Frankenstein, a hesitant expression on his face. He watched the battle for a few seconds silently, before he lowered his head. "Dr. F, I'm glad you're alive."

Frankenstein snorted. "Don't try to suck up to me, Tao. You set this all up, didn't you? Hacking into the police server, locating the children, finding this abandoned tunnel on the way to the airport and setting the explosives in strategic locations. The entire set up reeks of your planning."

Tao let out a sheepish laugh. "Well, I was under orders of the Twelfth Elder."

"What about now?" Frankenstein asked, sharply.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't want to fight you, of course." That wasn't the first time he'd heard that, and he wondered exactly how the lower-level members of the so-called Union viewed him. "It's not just because you were nice to us, of course," added Tao. "I remember you actually kicked a lot of ass back then. I'd seen you train often. Those guys were terrified of you – couldn't match you without the pill, and you never took any."

"Because the pill harms your body more than it helps you," Frankenstein said, looking straight at Takeo.

Takeo ran his fingers over the muzzle of his gun and said nothing. He was watching Shark being beaten up by the girl, but he made no move to help him. His eyes were very cold.

"We have no choice," Tao said and shrugged. "We are forced to take them either way." He took out a pill and put it on his palm, like a display as it reflected the soft light of the lamp on the wall.

"It's poison."

"We know," Takeo was the one who replied. "We have _no_ choice."

"I – " Frankenstein swallowed. "I can give you a choice. I can give you a home." Was it even his to give? Raizel would probably say so. He wanted to help these two, as much as he would have liked someone to help him when he was trapped in the clutches of the Organisation and no one had saved him. He could make a difference though, right here and now, so it was a chance worth taking.

He never got to hear Tao or Takeo's answer, because in that moment, just as the silver-haired girl had managed to stop Shark, the wall next to them exploded and Regis came flying through. He collided with Shark, knocking them both to the ground and spat blood.

"Seira," he said, coughing some more. "He's a –"

The girl – Seira – whipped around and got into a defensive position as Krans walked through the hole he'd created. Frankenstein got to his feet, dusting his knees and braced himself. If Krans could overpower a being that hadn't lost his powers, that meant he, too, wasn't human.

"He's an offspring of the Grigori," Regis said. He was still trying to stand up, even as his legs shook and buckled under him.

"He's a what?" Tao asked, panic colouring his tone. He'd seen the children fight, and he'd believed that they could probably overpower Krans.

"Grigori," Frankenstein said, narrowing his eyes. He'd definitely heard about it, though he couldn't quite recall at the moment what it meant.

"They came down to the human world without permission," Seira explained, without context for Tao and Takeo, as it was mostly for Frankenstein's benefit. "And had children with humans. He's one born of such a union – his blood is polluted."

"That means," Frankenstein elaborated, getting the picture. "He's stronger, much, much stronger than humans. Don't get involved, you two, or else you'll lose your lives."

Seira turned to him. "You don't have to step in. I can handle it." Though there was no air down here underground, her hair fluttered in the breeze only she could feel. The air around her moved differently than the rest and within that small pocket of space where she stood, her power grew stronger and stronger. And then right in front of Frankenstein's eyes, a dark shape took form against her back, a giant cloaked figure that loomed over her head. Frankenstein could recognise it without being told what it was.

Krans laughed in its face. "So I see that your Lord has finally decided to make a move?" He spat on the ground. "What's the point of stepping in now when it's all too late?"

"You don't get to question the Lord," Seira said, coldly, and raised her finger. The giant scythe carried by her Grim Reaper swept forward in a giant arc, slashing through the air, rending the space itself and Krans' body was cleaved in two. He slumped to the ground, a grotesque smile still on his face. Seira did not falter, however.

Yonsu and Sangeen who had just arrived at the scene, however, faltered aplenty.

Frankenstein did not have time to spare for them because right in front of their eyes now, Krans' body was beginning to knit itself back together. The bruise-like smile deepened on his face and he became upright. He flexed his fingers and brushed them against the neatly healed cut with a satisfied look on his face. And even so Seira was unruffled. She raised her arm again and the scythe was brought down from above this time, a sharp noise piercing the stillness of the tunnels as Krans' body split into two again.

_'Frankenstein_ ,' a voice spoke right into his ear as he watched in sick fascination at the way Krans' body simply regenerated itself, _'let us have him. She cannot sever his life because he's neither one of us nor one of them, only that guy can. But we can take him, Frankenstein. We can take our revenge._ '

The mass of angry souls was thick enough that Frankenstein could no longer watch what was happening in front of him. He could hear Krans' gloating voice, though, proclaiming that he was going to kill them all by the time Seira was tired, and Frankenstein couldn't have that. Regis was Gejutel's grandson; Seira was probably related too, in some way. He couldn't let them get hurt here. He closed his eyes and lowered his mental defences, letting the crackling black-purple collection of souls bleed inside him.

"No," he heard Seira say even as the world faded to black. "Wait—"

And then he heard no more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poor decision leads to disastrous consequences: a quick summary of Frankenstein's life so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entrance and exit of Manic Pixie Dream Old Man. Enjoy! (Most of this was written on a train, because they are so conducive to fiction writing somehow.)

The sounds of crashing waves, breaking against the rocks in foam and stiff ocean breeze: they were his only companions inside the dark, dank cave he'd woken up in. Outside sometimes there would be gulls, and other seabirds besides, but Frankenstein wouldn't know. He counted the days, unsteady beneath his breath, from the passage of stars. The light would wax and wane, and every new morning did not bring him closer to being able to sit up. An old man came to him every night, fed him through a wooden spoon, and he would sometimes wash Frankenstein's clammy skin.

The old man wouldn't speak much to him, and Frankenstein had no idea what to say to him either even if he could. He couldn't remember how he'd ended up here, much less as to who he was. The only memory his mind had refused to give up was his name, and he'd told the old man as such. He'd received no answer for his troubles, however.

Other than that, there was only one thing he did know: unrelenting pain and agony. He wasn't sure what it felt like to not be in pain, maybe once he'd been a man who did not suffer from what ailed him, but he would be hard pressed to believe it. He breathed slowly, through his nose, as the brackish water splashed against the mouth of the cave, spraying the insides damp, and sunlight glimmered somewhere out of reach. The world was blue and white out there, but Frankenstein only knew the black and damp interiors of the cave. That was his world as far as his memory stretched, and beyond it was a yawning void he couldn't comprehend. Who was he? How had he come to rest here in this hell? Was he being punished for something?

The rocks around him were unyielding – they would give him no answer. Frankenstein closed his eyes to them and downed in the red-hot pain that burned through his body.

It was during the fifth or the sixth day, by a rough estimate, that the old man came to him while it was still light outside. He was dressed in worn clothes, his beard hung low on his chest and his face was weathered. He was carrying food with him, and water – Frankenstein licked his parched, chapped lips and sighed. Food he could not stomach even on the best of the days, but he was always thirsty and there was never enough. The old man cupped his head, lifted it, and then pressed the waterskin to his mouth letting him drink. Frankenstein drank until he felt sick from it, tearing his lips away with reluctance and the old man let go.

"You're starting to look more alive," the old man remarked, tucking the waterskin away and fiddling with his bag. He had brought food with him, fresh fish and fruits, ready to be chopped and eaten.

Frankenstein licked the roof of his mouth, found it unpleasant and let out a soft groan. If the old man noticed it, he did not give any indication. He simply prepared a modest lunch and sat down to eat, passing Frankenstein a little bit of fruit when he could. Frankenstein ate what he could, whatever he could keep down, shaking his head when he reached his limit.

After the meal was over, the old man turned to him and ran careful hands over his limbs, pressing and probing gently at his stomach and shoulders. He did that time to time and by now Frankenstein had learned not to make a sound when the pain got too great.

"Your spine is shattered," the man said. He withdrew his hands, tucking them into his lap and watching the mouth of the cave with disinterest. "You might never walk again."

It might be life-changing news to anyone, but Frankenstein was so adrift he couldn't even begin to care. He was already in hell, so if he didn't get to walk ever again what would it matter – assuming the pain would stop at some point. Besides, he did not even know his own identity. Was there someone out there who would be sad if Frankenstein perished here in this cavernous gloom, not even able to remember their name?

He blinked, scattering those thoughts and looked at the old man. The shadows in the cave grew longer until there wasn't any illumination left to even see the whites of his eyes. The old man uncurled himself then, lit a torch on the far-off wall, lit another with it, and left in complete silence, just as he'd come. And at that moment, Frankenstein was half-convinced that he would never see what lay just beyond the edge of the rocks that guarded the outside world from Frankenstein's eyes. Hotness welled up in the corners of his eyes, sliding free of his lashes and dripping into his ears as Frankenstein wished desperately for only one and one thing alone.

The first stirrings of memories inside him came at the end of his second week inside the cave. It was no longer as painful, nor as agonising to simply exist, but the solitude around him had driven Frankenstein beside himself. The old man still came to him, either at night or during the day, and they did not speak much as usual. Frankenstein could eat the fish now, finding taste in its rawness when he'd once turned his face away. But the cost of taking solid food meant putting up with the humiliation of having someone clean him up. The old man did it deftly, without a moment's hesitation as if he were a doctor – and perhaps he was, for he did save Frankenstein's life from whatever it was.

Then he _remembered_ and even the comfort of an ignorant wish for survival was taken from him. Once his memory started returning, it just wouldn't stop. He thrashed on the ground, the weight of his crimes heavy on his chest, and struggled not to drown in them. By the time the old man arrived, Frankenstein hadn't managed to calm the turmoil inside his heart altogether. The old man took one look at him and seemed to _know_. He shuffled closer, took out a soft linen cloth and poured water over it. That done, he gave the remaining water to Frankenstein to drink, which he did wearily. Once the waterskin was empty, the old man wiped away his face, hands terribly gentle. Frankenstein felt fresh tears in his eyes, he felt _that_ unworthy of such kindness.

"At last," the man said in the quietness that followed. "You have recovered your memories."

Frankenstein nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak just yet.

"Will you tell me why you killed all those people?"

And here he thought nothing could surprise him anymore. Frankenstein turned his head to stare at that man's face, guilt eating away at him. "I –"

"I was called over to look at the corpses. I'm a doctor and I've seen so many people die, and gruesomely too, but that was quite something. There wasn't anything anyone could do for them." The man paused, rummaged into his bag and drew out a bottle. He opened it and took a small swig from it, filling the narrow space between them with the smell of alcohol. The man continued: "It wasn't hard to find out the people responsible, of course, once everyone had gotten over the shock. Only you managed to escape because they said you'd committed suicide."

He drank again and wiped his mouth. If he'd stopped to give Frankenstein a chance to explain or deflect the blame, there was no need. Frankenstein felt as if his tongue had been glued to his mouth and he'd never speak again from the knowledge that burned him from within.

"Tell me," the man asked then. "Do you still want to die?"

Frankenstein averted his eyes.

The old man huffed quietly and recapped his bottle, gathering up the rest of the things. He left within the next five minutes and Frankenstein wasn't sorry to see him go. It seemed that he would go hungry tonight, but that was fine by him because the mere thought of eating was abhorrent to him.

The next two days passed in a haze. He hadn't had a drop to drink nor a bite to eat, and while he'd been too sick to eat during the first day, his resolve had crumbled miserably the second day. He had to have water. His lips were cracked and bleeding and he knew he was severely dehydrated. It wouldn't be surprising if he got delirious and died right here, all alone. And wasn't that what he deserved? The thought offered him no comfort from the persistent dryness in his mouth and the burning thirst.

On the eve of the second day as the cave darkened to the point that Frankenstein couldn't see anything – thought it could very well have been him losing his consciousness, that he could hear the sound of footsteps. At first he attributed it to delirium and dismissed it from his mind, but when a pale light threw long shadows over the slate grey walls, Frankenstein cracked his eyes open and looked at the source of the light. It was the old man, come to find him and with him he'd brought water.

It was excruciating to wait for water, but the old man was slow in giving it to him. He also cleaned him up so Frankenstein wouldn't have to lie there in his own filth. Little by little, his senses returned to him and the feeling of being human returned to him. The old man worked in silence as was usual for him, and when he was done, he went to sit beside Frankenstein, regarding him with solemn eyes.

"Because you had chosen to poison the water supply of the hotel, the poison only affected the people staying in the hotel itself. The indigenous population of this island, including one such as myself, managed to escape unscathed and for that I'm thankful every day. I cannot even imagine the absolute massacre it would have been had you chosen to fry a bigger fish, as it were."

It wasn't good to lie, so Frankenstein said, "I wasn't the one who chose where to dump the poison."

"Ah," he said. "Is that so? Were you the one who poured it into the water tank then?"

Frankenstein nodded.

"And is that why you threw yourself off it?"

"No, I did it because I was the one who _made_ that poison. I never wanted to be responsible for all that, but that couldn't be helped. Still, I could prevent it from happening in future, so I took the knowledge of the poison and jumped."

"Perhaps," the old man said after a long silence. "It would have been kinder to simply let you die at the bottom of the valley. One of the men from our village found you there. I recognised you, so I brought you here where nobody ever comes. I thought—"

"You should have left me to die," Frankenstein said, voice bitter. He couldn't physically crawl away and throw himself into the roiling ocean just yet.

"I'm not a man who believes in things like fate and such, but—" The man reached forward and brushed away a few tears from Frankenstein's eyelashes. "If you survived that sheer drop, it means you should yet live. If only to right the wrongs you've committed. You feel guilty enough to end your life, whether it's to stop people from using your knowledge or you, I don't know. There might come a chance when you can use this life of yours for something better than hurting people."

"But I—"

"I don't know anything about you," the man conceded with a wry chuckle. "It may very well be impossible for you to go against the people you were a part of, but as the man who saved you, I'd like to ask you to try. If dying is your end goal, you probably will die along the way, so why waste the opportunity to hurt them a little?"

"How can I, with this broken body?" Frankenstein asked, despite himself. He wasn't the type to simply given in and give up, but he was _so_ tired. He was grateful to the old man; however, there was no way he could take on the entire Organisation on his own. It was impossible.

"If I could help you fix that, what will you do? Have you forgotten your desperate desire for water? Did you see how unsightly you were, trying to survive in such a situation – how is it any different?"

Frankenstein had no answer for that.

"Here," the old man said, drawing out a slender chain from his pocket and placing it next to Frankenstein. "I've been holding onto it for you, but I guess it's time I returned it to you. You were holding onto it very tightly even in your death throes, so I assume it means something to you that you couldn't discard it right until the end. Hold it close and think about what I've said."

It was Tesamu's chain and a grim reminder of how everything had gone wrong. Could he really do it? Fight the Organisation that had used him so and kept him prisoner for so long? He closed his fingers over the pendant, clutching it close. The old man left him there. Frankenstein thought that entire night and when morning sun finally slanted its way through the craggy edges of the cave, he had come to a decision. It was the only decision he could have made, really.

* * *

 

It wasn't strange that taking dead souls into his body – souls teeming with unbridled anger and malice – without having carried out extensive trials and testing would be a bad idea. He had no idea how long he'd lost his consciousness, or how long he'd spent rampaging. When he was able to see, he stood over the mangled remains of what might have been Krans. The tunnel had collapsed because of extensive damage to the walls and there was a great barrier of dust that blocked the sun and the sky. In this isolated pocket of space, only he and the hatred existed. Krans was dead, but the dead had not left him. They demanded satisfaction: all those lost lives and potential, all those broken bonds and severed lifetimes, the blood of one man was never going to be enough to pay for it.

He could sense that Tao and Takeo were still alive, just beyond the curtain of rubble that separated them and they were logically the next to die. He did not want that, though, because he knew they _could_ be saved. He wasn't exactly unaware of the victims of his own making, the black cloud that should have swallowed him up if not for Raizel. It wasn't wrong to want to save them, for them to be given a chance to redeem themselves as well – he couldn't afford to have their lives snuffed out now.

But.

He tried to resist as hard as he could to stop his legs from walking into Tao and Takeo's direction. He did not want to kill them. He did not want to hurt any of the people he'd known back then, people he'd realised were stuck in the same rut as he had been. He had tried to protect them when he could, as much as he was able to – it was strange to see it returned to him when he met them now, a traitor now – he had no desire to harm them. But the people who'd fallen victim to Krans did not differentiate between intent and action. Death did not seek logic, only its prey.

The moment he stepped beyond the veil of dust, he was relieved to see that everyone had managed to escape the caved in ceiling with minimum scratching. Seira and Regis had pulled the three human children away whereas Tao and Takeo had pulled Sangeen and Yonsu away, though by the sour look on the latter's face, Frankenstein assumed she had been alert enough to have dodged that on his own. Still, he was glad that Tao and Takeo had gotten to them anyway, because in case she hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself. And as his feet drew him towards the four of them, he was sure that if no one – including himself – stopped him, it would all be for naught.

His hand raised against his will as the space between them decreased, crackling with energy of the dead inside him, and every face around him drained of colour. When his fingers closed around Tao's throat, lifting him off the ground, nobody dared to move. Tao struggled in his grip, sounds of distress escaping him as he tried to pry off his fingers, and Frankenstein watched, horrified. Was there truly _nothing_ he could do? He wished they would attack him, push him away, and yet none of them made a move. Even Yonsu watched in mute shock as Tao was being slowly strangled to death.

It took _everything_ , every single bit of will power he had to wrest some measure of control back from the dead, and he used it to turn towards Seira because she was the strongest amongst them. "Can you stop me?" His voice sounded strange to his own ears – it was hard to recognise it as it was.

Seira's eyes seemed to assess him, cool and measured, despite her earlier reaction. She blinked and shook her head, voice rueful when she spoke, "I cannot sever these things from you nor can I kill you."

"Chop off my arm?" Frankenstein asked, hopefully, wincing when he felt his grip tighten against Tao's windpipe. He could feel Tao's struggling get weaker by the second. "Anything would help."

"I cannot even get close. The energy that has taken over your body is making it impossible for me to even move much less get closer to you." She paused, still evaluating. "I don't understand who could have given you such a power."

_Raizel_. The word echoed inside his mind, solid and deep, and he wished if only for an instant for Raizel to come and stop him. In the next, he had the horrible realisation that if Raizel stopped him, it would only cause him _more_ pain because of Frankenstein's foolishness. However, it was already _too_ late. A familiar presence gathered itself next to him, so nostalgic and large that it threatened to swallow him up. His fingers loosened by itself, the presence of the dead souls pushed away from the mere brush of Raizel's powers.

He was back in his adult form, grim-faced and eyes full of pain – not his own, no, he was sad _for_ someone else, as always. Frankenstein closed his eyes and wished for the dead to leave him – leave before Raizel had to cut them out of him, waste more of his powers on someone like him.

"I'm sorry," Raizel told him.

Frankenstein _didn't_ understand, but he didn't have time or leave to ask because Raizel's wings were out and everything else lost importance. He could feel the thrum of Raizel's might inside him, could feel the malice excised from his body, could feel the gentle strength of Raizel support him as the dead departed through the path Raizel had opened above them. The black mass he'd cut from Frankenstein's body was sucked up in the vortex that had suddenly appeared above their heads. The rip disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The moment it was gone, sound and life returned to the world that had fallen eerily silent and a great clamour rose from behind.

Tao was back on his feet, sticking against one of the still-standing walls and staring at them with wide, fearful eyes. Takeo was crouching a little ways away, the same look in his eyes as well, to say nothing of the two Scotland Yard officers. The most worrying were the ones given to them by the two children, shocked as they were at the open display of power by a being they did not know. Raizel did not look at any of that; his eyes were fixed on Frankenstein alone.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

Frankenstein was able to stand now by his own power, so he gave a nod and looked everywhere except at Raizel's face. He saw Raizel reach for him, then aborting the motion halfway. "I'll see you back at home," he said quiet enough so that only Frankenstein could hear, and then he disappeared.

"What," said Yonsu after an entire minute had passed and no one else spoke, "the fuck was all _that_?"

"I can explain," Frankenstein said, wearily. He felt like his body had been wrung out and left to dry. The exhaustion he felt wasn't anything he'd encountered before. "Sort of," he amended when he thought of the nature of the explanation he _could_ , technically, give. "You two," he said, turning to Seira and Regis whose faces were warier than ever. "Before you report to the Lord about this, I'd like to have a talk with you as well. If afterwards you still want to report, I won't stop you." He had no idea what kind of trouble it would cause Raizel and the others should the Lord know of them, but he had to try and stall for time as long as he could.

"You know of the Lord," Seira said, eyes widening a fraction when Frankenstein affirmed with a nod.

"Right," he said, when the two did not disagree with him openly. "Let's get out of here first, shall we? Tao, Takeo, I'm sorry about earlier, but it's best if you come with us too. And yeah, bring the children too." He said pointing to the kids in the back, sleeping blissfully unaware.

Takeo nodded but he did not put his gun away, whereas Tao rubbed at the ugly red bruise around his neck and looked at him with a cautious look in his eyes. It stung, but it was _his_ fault so he didn't fight it. He turned away and began to climb out of the hole, jumping over the fallen ceiling and pieces of concrete.

"Say," Yonsu called from below. "One thing before we go: are you the _devil_?"

Unable to help himself Frankenstein let out a mirthless chuckle. "Close enough," he said, and pulled himself out of the abandoned tunnels.


	15. No Rest For the Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too tired and sleepy, so just have at.

The hotel room was emptier for Raizel's absence and Frankenstein felt it more acutely than ever with the crowd that had assembled there. They children had been returned to the hospital, though they had woken up on the way and had been full of questions. The kind no one could answer in good conscience.

Everyone was keeping a safe distance from him. Even Seira and Regis were watchful in how loud they breathed in Frankenstein's space and he wasn't sure if he could stand it longer. He missed Raizel's warmth, his presence and his gentle and kind aura.

Though he did not deserve it, not in the least.

Clearing his throat, he took a seat and indicated the rest of them to take whatever available space there was for them to seat themselves. Unsurprisingly, none of them took him up on the offer and remained a tight semi-circle away. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't had that coming.

"Officer Yonsu, officer Sangeen, have you heard of the organisation that calls itself the Union?" He asked, starting from the least important factors.

They both shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware but not wanting to admit, but that was a given. He smiled bitterly and picked at a stray thread of his tattered sleeves.

"I was once a part of them. These two are, too." He pointed at Tao and Takeo without looking at them – the slightly scared look in Tao's eyes _hurt_. "I escaped and I've been trying to help others escape too. The children ran into Union operatives by mistake and that's why people keep targeting them. I'm sorry for not being able to tell you from the beginning."

"That doesn't explain," Yonsu said once she had sufficiently recovered, but not enough to describe all that she'd seen. " _All that_." She flapped her hands to make wings in an attempt to get her point across or break the tension, perhaps.

"That's—" He stole a glance at the two silver-haired children. "It's not for you to know."

"Now, listen here—" Yonsu began, fists clenched but Seira stepped forward, pale hair glimmering in the cheap fluorescent lighting.

"Like your organisation keeps some secrets to itself about its internal matters, this is a matter that concerns only us. It's not for normal humans to know."

Sangeen was the one who spoke up next, then. "Yes, but we already witnessed it, so doesn't it make us privy to this information?"

Seira eyed them coolly. "Your memories can be altered fairly easily."

"Wait," Frankenstein interrupted. "No tampering with anyone's memories as long as I'm here."

"Do not push your luck, human," Regis said, bristling. "In the first place, I don't understand why you are able to use such powers. You're not one of us, never were."

"There will be time yet to discuss that," Frankenstein said, evenly. "But first, officer Sangeen, please understand the position of those children and take adequate steps to ensure their protection. It's best if they leave for Korea as soon as possible because there's no way more Union people won't be arriving here, following this commotion."

That attracted Tao's attention. "Who do you reckon—"

"Dr. Aris, if I'm not wrong. She is very much attached to DA-5 as it is her pet project. I wouldn't be surprised if the Twelfth Elder also makes his move," Frankenstein said, gripping the edge of his chair out of sight. "While DA-5 wasn't the most skilled or strongest unit inside the Union, they were still one of the earlier prototypes that were built with power enhancing drugs used without reserve. I'm sure they have refined the system a lot by now, but Dr. Aris always referred to you as her children." Frankenstein winced. "It was very creepy, in all honesty."

"Look," Sangeen said once Frankenstein was done. "If you're a deserter, we can give you aid and support and in return you can help us track down the Union agents, maybe? We'll let all those, uh, other things slide too."

Frankenstein shook his head. "You cannot take on the Union. It has too much political clout; your careers will be destroyed. Leave it."

"But," Yonsu began just as Sangeen placed a hand on hers, face grim. She subsided, though not without trembling from the anger and injustice of it all.

"I know you wish to move against the Union, but I wouldn't recommend that. Not because it'll endanger your careers alone, there are people like those—" Again, he pointed to the children. "—inside the Union. One wrong move and you won't even have time to realise what becomes of you." It wasn't technically true because those people were restricted by the same set of principles and they all valued their lives, _but_.

The two police officers blanched and grew pensive. It was a blow all right, knowing that the biggest international criminal organisation in the world had supernatural help on their side.

"I won't run or hide. I'll continue to work against the Union in any way I can," Frankenstein continued. "You can come to me any time you like. You can also arrest me and put me in jail, but you have no proof so it'd be all pointless. Or you can help me with my endeavours. The choice is yours."

"You aren't really giving us a choice here though, really, are you?" Yonsu said. Her shoulders had slumped and while Frankenstein did not wish for her to feel that way, he had no choice either.

"It's the only thing I can do. I give you my word that I won't run away and you already have me under surveillance." He had no reason to run away, after all. "Please forget about the rest – it might help you sleep better at night, if nothing else."

By the looks on their faces, it was apparent that they weren't going to forget the way Frankenstein had destroyed Krans and almost murdered Tao any time soon. This, too, was inevitable. In the end, however, Sangeen seemed to disengage himself from the situation and stepped back. "We need to think about this. We also need to make an official report of this incident. Also, the kids need to leave. We'll hold you to your word." The look on Sangeen's face belied his intentions but Frankenstein did not call him out on it. "And we'll be in touch." _Soon_ , his eyes seemed to say.

He left the room with his wife and silence fell around them. Frankenstein gathered his wits around him, relieved because it could have gone a _lot_ worse. Whatever doubts they had about Tao and Takeo, he would answer them the next time they met. And about that:

"Tao, I'm very sorry about what happened earlier. I lost control and put your life in danger."

Startled, but not entirely put off, Tao skirted closer to take the seat opposite Frankenstein. "We kind of got that, Dr. F." He mimed hand chopping and looked surreptitiously at Seira and Regis. "But as for the rest, we don't understand _one bit_."

"In order to explain the rest, and that includes the explanations you require, we have to go to my home." Where Raizel was. Frankenstein had no idea if Raizel was all right. And that was all he could think of now that he'd let himself realise it. Panic curled heavily in his stomach and he gripped at his middle, wanting to not feel sick.

"Let's go then," Regis said.

* * *

Frankenstein rang the doorbell. He wasn't entirely surprised to see that it was M-21 who let them in. He inclined his head in greeting and Frankenstein returned it. That meant that M-24 was feeling better and he was glad for it. He already felt his body sagging from the relief of being home, of feeling Raizel's sublime aura that had seeped into the very walls by now. But while he was slowly slipping into repose, Regis and Seira were starting to frown. M-21 caught sight of Tao and Takeo and froze on the doorstep, letting himself be brushed aside when Frankenstein went inside.

They retired to the living room, and Frankenstein was glad to see that they all took seats this time no matter how disquieted they felt. Frankenstein looked around; trying to find Raizel inside the house but nothing seemed to indicate that he was still here. He sat up a little straighter then, concerned. He closed his eyes and tugged on the tenuous connection they shared, but there was no reply either. The panic from earlier rose up inside his body, choking him and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. It was okay: it wasn't as if Raizel was _dead_. It still set his teeth on edge and his skin felt far too tight over his limbs.

"Are these Takeo and Tao?" M-21 asked, sitting down next to him.

Frankenstein nodded. "They went after those children. I found them."

M-21 looked at them, an inscrutable look on his face. Frankenstein continued, "I'm not entirely sure if they want to defect from the Union, of course, so I can't say it was all right to bring them here. But I couldn't leave them behind for the Union to pick them up."

"I can't leave the Union," Takeo cut in. "They have my sister."

Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. "What sister?"

"Teira? My sister," Takeo said, tilting his head in confusion.

Frankenstein felt as confused as Takeo looked. "You don't have a sister, Takeo. Not from what I remember."

"What the hell do you mean?" Takeo demanded, composure breaking for the first time since their reunion.

"Of course I don't know where Aris picked you up from, so I can't say if you're an orphan or what, but as far as she shared her notes on you, there was absolutely no mention of a sibling. Also, from when we interacted back then, you never talked of a sister either."

"You think they messed with his memories too?" M-21 voiced Frankenstein's sudden dawning realisation.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Frankenstein said slowly. From the distress Takeo was exhibiting, it was very much possible that someone had planted memories of him having a sister inside his head – but to what end, except one. There was only one person sadistic enough to do that.

"The fuck, seriously. I don't have to sit here and listen to this." Takeo stood up, gathered his things and walked right out of the house. Tao looked between his retreating figure and Frankenstein, and that one moment of hesitation was what Frankenstein had to capitalise upon.

"Tao, go with him and protect him. If I'm right, we'll be meeting his sister very soon."

"I'd go with him even if you didn't tell me to," Tao said. He did not sound all that annoyed, however. He spared another glance for the rest of them, lingering the longest on the fey children, before following after Takeo.

Red eyes turned to him now, since all extraneous people had filed out of the room except M-21, but he seemed to make no difference to them. There was a weight to their gaze, questions on their lips but they were far too reserved to come outright and demand an explanation from Frankenstein the way their human counterparts had. That did not mean that he was the hook, however, and that was the problem. He had averted instant crisis by calling them here, but now that they had followed him, he had no idea how to convince them that this wasn't something that should be reported to their Lord when he wasn't entirely in the know himself.

He was effectively trying to talk them into committing treason, risking the possibility that they would also be thrown out of their realm, stripped of their powers.

Raizel was very important to him, more than anything, but would he want Frankenstein to save him on the backs of _children_? Frankenstein swallowed. But before he could open his mouth and say anything, a familiar presence made itself known and a hand landed on his shoulder heavily.

"That's enough, Frankenstein." It was _Gejutel_ , and Frankenstein was as surprised as the other two. "Raizel is in his room, waiting for you. Go. I'll take care of this."

And from that moment onwards, Frankenstein had neither time nor space to note the shell-shocked expressions on Regis and Seira's faces, nor the way Gejutel had simply rescued him from a bad situation. He'd have to thank the old codger someday if this kept on, but that wasn't now. Right now, the only thing that mattered to him was that Raizel was waiting for him. Raizel who'd subdued his aura, who'd become invisible to all else, was waiting for Frankenstein and there was not a moment to lose.

He ran upstairs, galloping over the steps and left the family downstairs to talk things out.

* * *

He thought his heart would stop the moment he laid his eyes upon Raizel's figure, hunched up in the corner of his room. His giant white wings were spread across the span of the walls, hanging rather limply and the floor was covered with fallen feathers. Raizel's eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. He was still _alive_.

Frankenstein picked his way over to him, carefully avoiding stepping on any of the white feathers, and crouched down next to him, hesitant to even reach out and touch. Scared that Raizel might disappear if he so much as breathed wrong. He looked so pale, after all, almost chalk-white. His face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his lips, pale and colourless like the rest of him, were left slightly open. Frankenstein dropped to his knees and reached out, finally as his need to hold Raizel trumped over his fear, and pulled Raizel's body into his.

He wrapped his arms around Raizel's frame, avoiding the wings – so warm and soft to touch, like a living thing – and rested Raizel's head on his shoulder. Like old clockwork that required constant winding up so that they'd continue to function, and without attention they'd simply stop, the creature in Frankenstein's arms was no different. Each breath against Frankenstein's neck was exceedingly painful. Each thump and stutter of Raizel's heart was agonising. He couldn't even draw his wings in as they now lay in ruins around him.

Frankenstein was beginning to _understand_.

He brushed his fingers over the white expanse of Raizel's wings, stroking down the length of his reach and Raizel's bony spine. He managed to pull Raizel's body into his lap and set his back to the wall, ready to wait all night long if that's what it took. He arranged Raizel's limbs into a comfortable position, tucked into Frankenstein's body, and rested his head over Raizel's soft, black hair.

This was the physical manifestation of every wrong decision Frankenstein made. Before he'd met Raizel, all his poor choices were his own and his to bear, until he'd offered tea to a sad-eyed ghost. He'd opened his heart to that lonely child, thinking nothing of it at that time even though it had meant the _world_ to Raizel. What would have been better, Frankenstein wondered, for Raizel to simply fade away in that unbearably forlorn castle, or for him to die here, suffering from Frankenstein's lack of power? From the poor judgment on his part?

And Raizel meant to leave him alone on this earth after all that. Meant for him to survive and live on even when Raizel had disappeared from his life, and just how cruel was that?

If only time could stop, if it would only allow him to gather Raizel to himself and never let go, he would. He would steal Raizel from fate, god or providence – whatever there was that meant to take him from Frankenstein's bloodstained hands. He had no idea if that was something Raizel also wished for – he'd never bothered to ask, after all. He'd only taken Raizel for granted.

As he clutched Raizel to himself, the wings on Raizel's back dissolved in a white mist, dissipating into the early sunlight stealing from the large open window of the room. His breaths grew less laboured and the stiffness of his limbs eased, falling into restfulness. Frankenstein brushed slightly damp bangs away from Raizel's still too-pale face and pressed his lips to the clammy skin of his forehead.

Raizel's eyes fluttered open slowly, then, revealing glassy red from under the heavy curtain of dark lashes.

"Frankenstein?" He asked, soft, sleepy and tired.

"I'm here," Frankenstein told him.

"Are you all right?"

Frankenstein's heart squeezed painfully in his chest. "Yes, I am," he answered nonetheless and felt more than saw the tiny smile Raizel pressed into his shoulder.

"I'm glad."

A soft murmur and then nothing. Raizel had drifted off again, but he no longer looked like death warmed over. Frankenstein rose, Raizel in his arms, and set him down on the bed. His limbs ached from having sat so long on the hard floor, but he didn't really pay attention to it. Now that there was enough light in the room, he could finally see that they hadn't been alone for quite some time already. He'd been far too focused on Raizel's condition that he hadn't noticed the Lord, sitting on a chair next to the window obscured by the shadows.

"Frankenstein," the Lord said, the long blond hair of his catching errant rays of sunlight and lighting up his face with an unearthly glow. "I believe you wish to gain power that would make you less dependent on Raizel."

"Yes," Frankenstein said, brushing Raizel's hair back into its usual slightly messy and artful arrangement. "I think I know how, too."

"This will be the only window of opportunity you will have. If Raizel does something like this again, there won't be a next time for him. Or you. The shields he's built around you are very thin now, so if you want to feed yourself to your victims, you have to do it now."

Frankenstein looked beyond him into the teeming, looming black mass of souls of the people _he'd_ killed. It was large enough to sicken him. He'd been able to see them – though he'd done his best to acknowledge it so far – since Raizel had disappeared from his sight inside those collapsed tunnels. Like the Lord said: it was now or _never_.

"I know," he said, hoarsely, and closed his eyes, letting his defences fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly sorry about the abundant cliffhangers.


	16. Equivalence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this story is so sad. ;_;
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the lovely comments!

In the end, he couldn't say he knew what to expect. One moment he'd been standing in front of the Lord, vulnerable and raw in a way he hadn't been for a long, long time, ready to take a plunge that was ill-advised at best. And in the next moment, he felt a solid wall of heat hit his face. He opened his eyes, startled, and found himself standing in the middle of a tropical forest – a very familiar sight, and felt his skin prickle with sweat in the muggy heat.

He looked around, bewildered, but he couldn't quite understand what had happened. The only reason he knew this wasn't a dream or a memory, but rather quite real, was because there were no sounds. This place was _dead_. There was no telltale crunch of leaves trodden by animals, no sound of insects or calls of birds: no, this place was definitely _dead_. There was no wind, not even enough to stir a leaf, only wet, oppressive heat.

Frankenstein tried to suck in air, feeling oddly breathless, and walked carefully towards the well-traversed path he'd been aware of. He'd been here before, after all. His knees felt as if they had turned to water and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn't thirsty but the feeling still clung to him. He'd spent months walking through this patch of jungle on a particular island, recovering the use of his useless legs.

And now he was back here – the place he'd associated with his death and rebirth, and wasn't that interesting.

He continued to walk, bypassing the large tropical trees that towered impossibly tall, dense enough to not let even a lick of sunlight through. His fingers skirted the rough bark, lines of ivy clinging to the length of them, and made his way to the cave where he'd lived for a long, long time. However, as with other things, the sounds of the ocean were missing.

He trod carefully over the overgrown roots, snarled over the ground like a trap waiting to trap the unsuspecting traveller and make him fall face first on the damp ground. The smell of leaf-rot permeated the surroundings – at least that was still the same.

Frankenstein lifted his hand to shield his eyes as he went round the thickest cluster of trees, knowing that the ocean was just beyond this, vast beyond the jut of rocks this forest stood on. And on the side along the cliff, there was a tapering road that went down to the cave he'd been laid up in. Frankenstein had often marvelled at the fact that the old doctor who'd cared for him had carried him all the way there without ruining Frankenstein's broken spine permanently.

But when he finally exited the thicket, he wasn't greeted by the glittering water of the blue-green ocean. There was simply nothing beyond the edge of the rocks he now stood on – just a dark void that seemed to stretch on forever. He turned around, slightly perturbed – only slightly because at this point he'd been expecting such fuckery – and swallowed at the sight of the monstrous trees that seemed even taller than before. Menacing was the word for them. He could not dare to step back into the forest any more despite the fact that the world seemed to end a few steps ahead. Even the heat vanished, leaving behind shivering cold in its wake.

He could find the path to his cave if he tried – it was burned into his muscle memory, but he was reluctant. He had no idea what he was doing back here in the first place, after all. So he did what he could. He stared into the abyss, into the sheer black mass that rippled a little when he looked. Like _tar_.

Frankenstein took an involuntary step back when he realised, and it wasn't a moment too soon because its surface bubbled, taking on an unnatural sheen and a head rose from its depths. And then another and another, followed by bloated up corpses of countless people. They bobbed in the oily blackness, struggling faintly as the void threw them up.

Frankenstein _knew_ those faces; they had been burnt into his retinas a lifetime ago: piles of ruined bodies he'd seen from his window back in that hotel. He had been the one responsible. And now they had risen to greet him – his victims, his kills, all regurgitated from the afterlife to especially meet with Frankenstein.

And they had chosen this as the perfect hell for him: the place where he had gathered himself up and rebuilt his life from scratch. They could have thrown him back into the hotel; they could have thrown him back on the top of the watertank, but that would not have had the same impact. No, they had to bring him where he'd gained some hope, some peace out of the horrible mess that was his life.

They had brought him _here_ to teach him that he'd done so on the backs of countless bodies of his own making. Why should he be allowed any respite when they hadn't been allowed any either? Why should he be the one being loved and cherished when he'd stolen so many precious people from others?

They were looking at him now. Dark eyes accusing him of his crimes, and the silence only served to make the guilt inside him _heavier_ , more stifling. He knew they all cursed him – he'd had a chance to experience the same emotion such souls had towards their killers, turned in the direction of _others_. These did not speak for Frankenstein to grasp the measure of their hatred.

It would only be fair if Frankenstein suffered as they had, and it wouldn't be enough even then. There was no way he could make it up to them, no way for him even try. He couldn't even apologise because he had no right to speak to them.

They deserved to move on, deserved to go to the afterlife and find some peace, but he couldn't even afford them that because of how much of a drain it would be on Raizel.

Raizel.

Frankenstein started then, suddenly recalling why he'd surrendered himself to this. And the moment he did, the heaviness that had settled on his limbs eased a bit. He realised he'd gone on his knees without realising and was slowly leaning over the precipice, ready to fall in and let himself be devoured by the malice swirling below.

He pulled himself back, forcing himself to stand back on his trembling legs and bit his lip. Even now he was going to be selfish and ruthless. He could not afford to die here, not _now_. He had someone to protect: the person most important to him and beyond. Someone who should not be touched by hands as tainted as his, but Raizel had grasped them, wished for him, and Frankenstein would not abandon him for the world.

Would not abandon him by succumbing to his sins.

No, instead he was going to make use of his crimes and pull on the potential they provided him, as unsightly as that was.

And in return…

He sat down, folding his legs below his body, and looked at the deformed faces in front of his eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to moisten it so that he'd be able to articulate what he needed to say. It did not really help, but:

"I am Frankenstein," he said, grimacing. "And I'm the one responsible for this."

The black ocean churned a little, uncovering more and more bodies as faint murmurs rose around him. There was no distinct voice to it, but Frankenstein could readily understand what they were saying – and none of it was very pleasant.

"I know you would see me punished for what I've done for you. I agree, I deserve that and more. But—" He held up his finger. "Before that, I'd like to say something."

The voices buzzed louder now, malevolence gathering in the winds as they considered his words. Frankenstein could tell they weren't interested, and yet.

"I'd like to make a deal," Frankenstein said, quite bravely, he thought to himself. He wasn't in the least surprised when his vision darkened by the large wave of the dark waves that rose up, agitated by his uncaring and callous words. They did not care for Frankenstein's ideas – they only wanted his head, and he did not begrudge them that, except for the timeframe issues.

So he sat there, standing his ground as he stared into the eyes of his victims and hardened his heart. He was going to get his way, one way or the other, because Raizel's life depended on it.

* * *

 

Raizel's hands were cool on his flushed and sweaty skin, soothing him and brushing damp hair off his face. Frankenstein's eyes fluttered open and he found concerned red ones widened in surprise as he met them.

He was lying on the bed, his head nestled comfortably in Raizel's lap. That wasn't a bad way to wake up after _all that_ , all things considered. He smiled at Raizel, grasping at his hand that lingered over Frankenstein's skin, and squeezed it gently.

The Lord was no longer in the room.

"I could not reach you," Raizel said. His face was pulled taut with worry – so different from his usually unruffled expressions that only ever gentled into kindness. Raizel knew better than to show his pained face to anyone – except Frankenstein, that was.

"There was something I needed to take care of," Frankenstein said.

Raizel considered this, lips thinning into a worried line before it smoothed out into a more ambivalent look. "Frankenstein," he said, curling his fingers around Frankenstein's. "I trust you, but."

"But?"

"I don't want you to do something that hurts you for my sake."

Ah, but Frankenstein wanted to say the same thing to him. He'd done what he had because he couldn't bear to see Raizel hurt himself over and over again for _his_ sake. If Frankenstein hadn't been so weak, so pitiful, so in need of protection, Raizel wouldn't need to do anything that caused him immense amount of pain. And the worst part was that Raizel was _happy_ to do it. Frankenstein appreciated it, but he rather preferred Raizel being happy by his side than being gone from the world because he could not stop his kind heart.

"I'm not hurt," Frankenstein told him because that much was true. The rest was his business – nothing that Raizel needed to bother himself with.

"Not in body," Raizel agreed. He did not elaborate further, but the deep sorrow in his eyes spoke volumes, enough to make Frankenstein avert his gaze and look elsewhere.

Raizel would not ask him what he had done. He wouldn't presume to question Frankenstein's motives or actions, but that did not mean he was all right with it. Or had made peace with it. His immense concern for Frankenstein's wellbeing pressed like a solid weight on Frankenstein's mind, and Frankenstein knew that Raizel wasn't even aware of doing that.

It warmed his heart. There was no way he could regret his decision now.

* * *

When they went downstairs, Frankenstein realised that the population of their house had increased dramatically over the past few days. M-21 and M-24 were sitting in one corner of the room, right next to Gejutel as if seeking protection from him unconsciously. It was so strange to Frankenstein that they'd come to depend on him while Raizel and he had been away, but he wasn't sorry for it.

Seira and Regis stood in the opposite corner, uncomfortable but no longer wary as they looked at the single figure sitting in the middle of the room. That being the Lord, of course, flanked on each side by Ragar and Gejutel.

"Ah, Raizel, I see you two are feeling well enough to join us. We've been waiting." The Lord said as a way of greeting, a smile playing on his lips – a touch too gleeful for the occasion.

Raizel inclined his head and Frankenstein settled for staring at the man. The Lord stared right back, completely inscrutable. He was the only one who knew what Frankenstein had done – though not all the details, of course – and he had elected not to disclose it to Raizel. Frankenstein was grateful for that. But it was impossible to tell if he approved of Frankenstein's ideas, or was he glad that Frankenstein had survived his ordeal relatively unscathed.

"Regis and Seira will not report all of what they have seen to the current Lord," the Lord continued. "However, they will have to disclose some material information still."

If Frankenstein recalled correctly, the current Lord was his daughter. That meant—

"Does she know you're cavorting around in the human world, by the way?" Frankenstein asked, standing next to Raizel's chair as the latter seated himself comfortably and looked forlornly at the empty table.

There was no tea.

"No," the Lord was admitting, a tad sheepish. "She does not know."

"Does she even know that you're _alive_?" Frankenstein asked, diverting his attention from the fact that he was failing to provide Raizel with adequate refreshments. He meant to remedy that presently, just as soon he was done satisfying his curiosity. He couldn't risk Gejutel or Ragar mucking up his kitchen, and the poor Union survivors had enough on their hands to pick up on simple household chores, so he wasn't going to ask them. Not yet, anyway.

"Well," the Lord cleared his throat. "Well."

Frankenstein gave him an unimpressed look. "She doesn't."

"Not really."

"And isn't that bad, if she were to find out?"

"Perhaps." The admission was quiet and it doused Frankenstein's irritation, giving way to a more pressing concern.

"And isn't Gejutel still a part of her people?" Gejutel's face was devoid of any expression and even Frankenstein could acknowledge just how calmly this man was able to commit treason.

"He is," the Lord said. "If she finds out, he will be in a lot of trouble."

"Would you be able to convince her otherwise, if she gets on his case?" He had no idea what kind of ruler the Lord's daughter was, though he'd had the opportunity – technically speaking – to hear a lot about her more adorable traits. But even her father had admitted to her stringent nature.

"Ah," the Lord said. "That depends."

Frankenstein wanted to ask on what, exactly, but there was a quelling look on the Lord's face that discouraged further queries. If someone asked Frankenstein, he would have said that he did not care about the politics involved behind this as long as it did not affect Raizel. But if he was perfectly honest – and he would never admit to it – he was slightly concerned about what would become of them, especially Gejutel if it all came to light.

"For the time being," the Lord said, getting up and giving a glance to the two children. "They will remain here under the pretence of keeping an eye on you lot. It should buy you _some_ time."

The meaning was clear. Either they found a way to resolve the situation: that was to say, create a situation where nobody was forced to use unauthorised power, and it would be fine. Supposedly. Or else, they would all be thrown into jeopardy.

Easier said than done, Frankenstein thought bitterly as he watched the three of them disappear using Ragar's space bending magic. He was also worried about the fact that he would be housing two troubled children alongside two abused victims of the Union, as irreconcilable as their situations were, he would have to walk the fine line and accommodate them both.

But, there were other, more important concerns first. He sighed and pulled himself together, making his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. All of them could use a hot cup of tea, after all, and he could see the way Raizel brightened when he realised where Frankenstein was going.

The children were certainly a bit more sociable when they each received a cup of hot beverage in their hands. They took a seat next to Raizel as they took their tea, a little on the fence at first, but soon won over by how it tasted.

"Regis, Seira." They lifted their heads at the mention of their names. "My name is Frankenstein," he told them. "This is Raizel and those two are M-21 and M-24. I know you are already aware, but if we're to live together, I'd like to introduce ourselves properly. M-21, M-24 and I were once with the Union where the traitors of your race are hiding. I've met them, too."

"Grandfather spoke of it," Regis said. He put his tea down, solemn-faced. "He told us about the great injustices you all went through." Thankfully, there was no pity in his gaze. "He did not tell us why we couldn't tell the Lord just yet, but he implored us to make our own decision after observing the situation thoroughly."

"And what do you think?" Frankenstein asked.

"I don't think we know enough to judge everything just yet," Seira said. "So we will do as Sir Gejutel has asked us to do."

"Even if it means betraying your Lord?"

The children winced.

"When the time comes," Raizel was the one who spoke up this time. "You should tell the Lord everything."

"Would that not inconvenience you?" Regis asked, darting his gaze between Raizel and Frankenstein. His tone was definitely reverent when he faced Raizel – had they told them who he was? – but he wasn't unpleasant like before with Frankenstein either.

Raizel took a sip. "It is all right. I do not know what Gejutel has told you, but there is no need to endanger yourselves on my behalf."

"We will make that choice when the time comes," Seira said. They had not discounted the possibility of them revealing everything, but the fact that they were all right with waiting was hope enough for Frankenstein.

Frankenstein looked at Raizel's dark head, running a variety of ideas in his mind as to how to tackle the problems they faced. He had to make sure that M-21 and M-24 were not overwhelmed – their distress was palpable right now. He also did not wish to abandon Tao and Takeo to their fates, but there was a limit to how much he could do without their consent. He wanted to save them, but not to their detriment or against their wishes. He couldn't presume what they really wanted, could he?

And of course, there was also Raizel. He hadn't been able to return to his child form because of Frankenstein, and he was aware exactly how painful it was for him right now. He wouldn't show it in front of children and scared guests, but that did not mean that Frankenstein was unaware.

He poured more tea for Raizel and pursed his lips, feeling the sting of powerlessness despite everything acutely. No matter what else he was capable of now, he still wasn't able to help Raizel. He had no choice but to watch Raizel die, if not right away, it was still going to happen sooner or later.

The metallic body of the kettle bent under the pressure of his grip, cracking and splintering just like his heart, and Frankenstein covered it up with his hands, putting it out of sight.


	17. And if we should die tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about this chapter! lol

Frankenstein found M-21 on the balcony that night, looking at the town that sprawled brightly over the landscape in front of them. The stars had come out and the sky was exceptionally clear, with not even a whisper of the wind to disturb the peace. Frankenstein couldn't even hear the rustling of leaves, which only served to remind him of _that_ place.

He swallowed and went to stand next to M-21. His presence was acknowledged by M-21 making space for him and angling to look towards him with a curious look in his eyes.

"Dr. F," M-21 began, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning over the railing. "Who are those kids?"

"Regis is Gejutel's grandson," Frankenstein said. "Seira is a distant relative of sorts, I guess."

"No, I mean, who are they? Who is the person living with you? How can he shift between being a child and an adult? Though, of course that's the least of our problems."

He'd expected the queries much earlier, so he was a little relieved when they had not come. Partially because he himself wouldn't be able to explain, and whether they would believe him or not if he tried. There was something to be said about Frankenstein's state of mind that he hadn't questioned Raizel himself, but then _how_ could he?

"To be perfectly honest," he said, sighing. "I'm not entirely sure _what_ they are, really? But if you oversimplify it, you could call them angels?"

M-21 raised a brow. He did not say anything, but the expression on his face betrayed his opinion on the subject succinctly.

"If," Frankenstein emphasised, "you oversimplify matters. They seem to live in a different dimension than ours, I know that much, and possess a great amount of power. However, that power is dependent upon a mandate."

"Mandate?"

"Whether they have the right to use it or not," Frankenstein explained. "If they abandon their duties, they lose the mandate and become mostly powerless. And if they still brute-force it, they suffer as a consequence."

"Like him?"

Frankenstein nodded. "Several of the Elders in the Organisation are the same. They use _some_ of the powers allowed to them in order to create chaos in the human world, and if the system up there wasn't broken, they'd have been punished already."

M-21 considered this, as Frankenstein continued, "Raizel is supposed to be the one doling out the punishment, ideally speaking, but considering he's down here with us, he no longer has the authority to do so without endangering himself. But he keeps using his powers and that's why he's in the state he is."

"Why was he thrown out?" M-21 asked.

"I don't know all the details," Frankenstein said. Raizel had not told him, so that probably meant it was something that caused him a great deal of pain and Frankenstein had no desire to scratch at the scabs. "But he left his position. He was the one who judged their race for its crimes, and in his absence, things have gone a little…bad, I suppose. But it's not his fault, obviously. They had been bad already from the get-go; it was just that they could not move freely while he still remained. I'd say that there's probably a good chance that they had a hand in him leaving.

"Right, and then after he came down here, it seems something _else_ happened to him too that caused him to use his powers and weaken himself completely. By the time I found him, he was almost all gone." Frankenstein paused to mull over their first meeting. "He became livelier because I went in and made myself home in his house."

"He saved us using his powers," M-21 said after a length. "It hurt him, did it not?"

"Yes."

M-21's face contorted a little with guilt and he looked away. "He shouldn't have wasted his precious life over the likes of us."

Frankenstein frowned. "He wouldn't want you to think that. To him, everyone is extremely precious. He has power over death – he leads dead souls back to the other world, their world, I'm guessing, to find peace. He saves them because of his compassion and not duty, so for him, every human being is precious and deserves a good life and death. Dying like that, at Jake's hands, that would not have been a good way to die, would it? So he did what he could."

"At the cost of himself."

"Yes, but he has no regrets," Frankenstein said kindly. "Yes, it hurts me to see him suffer like that, but even I know he made the right choice in saving you. If anything, I hate myself for not being able to protect you before he was forced to use his powers. Protecting you two should have been my duty, not his."

"Why would you?" M-21 asked, clearly taken aback.

"Because we were all in the same boat back there, were we not? I was fortunate enough to escape. Back there, I had tried to take care of as many people as I could. I'd asked Crombel to not give you and your comrades so many drugs that you'd all die under the strain. I did whatever I could, but it wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough, not from the inside. I had no power there and no hopes of rising above with all the politics. And they also had me under the influence of drugs."

"I'd heard about it," M-21 whispered. "They put you on harder, more dangerous ones despite the fact that you were a valuable asset."

"I was an escape-risk," Frankenstein said, smiling without humour.

"They also altered your memories, like us and possibly Takeo, didn't they?'

"Yes, they totally messed up my mind. They also forced me to go on field operations and directly participate in live trials of the things we were forced to make. I did not last more than two such incidences."

M-21's face was white as a sheet as he recalled the incident Frankenstein had been alluding to. No doubt they had probably glossed over the gruesome details in the official release of information, but it had been bad, whatever they were told. It was a cautionary tale.

"But I think it was better that I was forced to take those lives on my own than to sit in a lab, concocting poisons that would harm thousands of people while having the satisfaction that I hadn't dirtied my own hands personally."

"They really cracked down on the dissenters afterwards," M-21 said. "They executed a lot of younger scientists who had become fearful of retribution – beating the point, really, and because they had admired you and did not want to comply with the people who led you to your death."

And here Frankenstein thought he couldn't feel worse about what had happened in the past. Some of the younger recruits were barely in their _teens_. They had shown an aptitude for science and research and had been plucked from their homes, brainwashed or pressured into working for the Union. Frankenstein had tried to make things easier for them by taking apprentices when he could. He had tried to shield the children so that they wouldn't have to go through what he did. But it was all for naught, wasn't it, because he had been too much of a coward to accept the reality of his situation.

"I don't think you should blame yourself," M-21 said. His eyes had softened for the first time during the evening. "We all saw what you were trying to do. How many times had you strategically walked into our section of the lab, distracting Crombel from whatever he was going to do to _us_."

It was nice that they remembered such good things about him, but the reality wasn't that nice. "It wasn't enough. So many of your comrades still died." He remembered the pile of corpses they would discard every time a trial went awry, every time some new side-effect of the drugs they were testing on cropped up.

"We know, and to us they are irreplaceable," M-21 said, voice solemn and soft. "But in the end they would have wanted for us to survive and carry on their legacy. It was good enough that we were allowed to leave the lab and become agents. It was good enough that we no longer had to drink poison to keep ourselves fed and clothed. It was good enough until it wasn't, so you don't understand what it means for us that you rescued us from the Union. Before we could lose our humanity completely, _you_ and he saved us."

Frankenstein closed his eyes. Even if M-21 and M-24 saw him as their saviour, Frankenstein had to swallow the fact that for the two he'd saved, there were thousands he'd left to fend for themselves. Logically speaking, there was no way he could have saved _everyone_ , but it chafed to know that he had not even tried. He'd been so focused on his own survival from the moment he'd opened his eyes in that cave.

"Dr. F," M-21 was saying. "The lives you and he gave so much to save, we aren't going to waste them. Please, let us help in whatever you're going to do from here on out. M-24 agrees with me. I saw you brought back Tao and Takeo. Do you want us to go out and look for them before the Union finds them again?"

"It's dangerous," Frankenstein said, shaking his head. He did not wish to meet M-21's eyes just yet. "Without the drugs, you'd be powerless against most Union operatives. And no, you're not taking them again no matter what."

"We won't engage into combat—"

"You might not be given the choice," Frankenstein cut in. "They won't refrain from fighting just because you two don't want to. And you can't seek help from Tao and Takeo either, because despite everything, there is no guarantee they'd want to help you either."

M-21 subsided, but barely. "Then what?" He asked, frustration evident in his voice.

"We will look for them," Frankenstein said. "Together."

"But what about _him_?" M-21 glanced at the room next to them where Raizel sat, drinking tea with a serene expression on his face.

"I'll ask him." Frankenstein sighed. "I don't want to keep him in the dark, but I also don't want to bring him along. However, at the same time, him being near means I know he's not getting into trouble _elsewhere_."

Surprisingly, that elicited a laugh out of M-21. "You sound like his parent."

Frankenstein answered with a smile of his own, tired but genuine. "Trust me, sometimes I do feel like one."

* * *

 

There was a blond man standing atop a building, looking down on M-21 and M-24 as they stood below a lamp and talked amongst themselves. Frankenstein had caught sight of him a few minutes prior and his stomach sank to his boots. He'd hoped he was wrong, but the more he considered it, the less likely it seemed to be the case. The man was wearing glasses, was slightly dark-skinned, and his hair was an atrocious shade of yellow: so it could only be _one_ man, and Frankenstein loathed the sight of him. He hadn't noticed Frankenstein so far, and he'd have liked to keep it that way, but if he dallied too much, it was possible that M-21 and M-24 would be targeted and hurt.

It didn't really leave him with a choice. As much as Frankenstein did not want Crombel getting wind of Frankenstein's whereabouts, he had no choice but to confront Yuri.

Wind whipped at his back as he curled his fists, damp with sweat as he considered Yuri's figure watching his charges like a sentinel. The mere idea of letting M-21 and M-24's lives be entangled with the Union bastards was enough to set his blood to boil. All the memories of days gone by, the things he'd done his best to forget came rushing through. Well, he figured, he'd wished to see what his newly-bargained for powers were like, so he might as well take a chance. But first: he took out his phone and fired a text to M-21's phone, alerting him to the situation and telling him not to panic. He told them to withdraw casually as he drew Yuri's eye, hoping that they'd escape in the meantime assuming that he was the _only_ one here.

But that was impossible, wasn't it, because Yuri never travelled without a few companions. Not because he wasn't strong, but because he liked to take care of things thoroughly. He would have been an annoying opponent for anyone, given his penchant for using underhanded methods.

Enough dithering, Frankenstein told himself, and pocketed the phone. He hoped that he'd be done in time for dinner, because he was going to make Raizel's favourite ramyeon today, and it didn't do well to miss mealtimes. Not that Raizel would blame him, really. Rather than blaming, Frankenstein was more concerned with Raizel following after him. In the end he'd managed to convince Raizel to stay behind and watch over the house – he didn't want to leave the house to two inhuman children without someone he trusted to keep an eye. Well, Seira had shown interest in helping with cooking and Regis liked to clean, so it wasn't as bad as it could be, but still.

He leaned forward, balancing himself on the toes, and closed his eyes. He envisioned jumping as high as he possibly could. He really wished he'd been given even the smallest opportunity to test out his new powers, but life wasn't that easy on him. He sucked in a deep breath and leapt, eyes still firmly closed. And that was why he felt rather than saw himself becoming almost weightless, like gravity had no more claim on his body, and the wind whooshed loudly in his ears. His eyes popped open just as he soared through the sky, far above the skyscraper he'd been aiming for.

Well, shit. Frankenstein bit his lip and angled his body forward, stopping his upward motion and redirected himself to land just beside where Yuri stood. He had expected the landing to jar his bones, but he barely even felt the impact as he came to rest just behind Yuri, almost soundless. But not quiet enough to escape Yuri's notice, of course, and he watched as the man turned around, a slightly startled look on his face which then morphed into a horrified one. At least that feeling was mutual.

"Frankenstein," Yuri said, turning away from the edge and staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost – and that wasn't too far from the truth. "Well, well, well. _That_ explains everything, doesn't it?"

"Yuri," Frankenstein said, standing up straighter and running fingers through his dishevelled hair. Jumping was great, but it certainly did a number on his hair. Later, he'd work on something that kept his hair from getting tangled from the strong winds. Later, he promised himself and smirked at Yuri. Now that they were facing each other, all his earlier anxiety melted away and he felt _powerful_. "Been a few years, right? You seem to have grown a bit haggard."

Yuri scowled. "Doctor Crombel has me babysitting Aris. It would age _anyone_."

Frankenstein laughed – as unpleasant as it could sound and relaxed his stance. "I agree," he said, lightly. "She's still the same, I take it?"

"Yes," Yuri said. "She's here, you know."

"Ah, is she?"

Yuri pushed his glasses up. "Well, considering you were behind the destruction of the DA-5, it shouldn't surprise you, should it? I've asked Tao and Takeo over and over what happened, but they have been most uncooperative and tight-lipped. You're still just as well-liked as ever."

"Jealous, are we?"

"Why would I want to be worshipped by trash, Frankenstein?" Yuri said, tone cold and all the easiness of his earlier manner dropped in a second. "You wanted to surround yourself with garbage and refuse of the Union; you allowed your skills go unappreciated and never took the opportunity to rise within the ranks. You even went as far as to _escape_. Why would I be jealous of a fool?"

"True, our priorities were always far too different for us to be concerned with each other. I mean, I have enough self-respect to not lick Crombel's boots, after all." Frankenstein knew he'd struck a nerve when Yuri's brow furrowed. "And at least I had the talent to rise, unlike someone like you."

"Very funny, I see you haven't lost your sense of humour, Frankenstein," Yuri said, stepping away from the edge and walking forward. He dug his hand in his pocket, and drew out a gun from it, pointing it at Frankenstein's face. "Too bad that we've been given a shoot at sight order for where you're concerned."

"I'm flattered, but no thanks." Frankenstein did not bother to even get on his guard. A bullet would not kill him – though it would slow him down, so he did plan to evade it. Besides, he wasn't sure if he wanted to reveal too much in front of Yuri, in case he did escape alive. He was certainly very slippery.

"It wasn't like I was giving you a choice," Yuri said. He squeezed the trigger, ready to fire his gun, but a hand encircled his wrist and pulled it skywards so that his shot flew into the night sky, unable to hit its target. It was Dr. Aris' slender hand that had forced Yuri to change his target, and neither of them felt happy about it. She already looked rather peeved.

"Yuri, come on, what are you doing playing around?" She demanded, hand on her hip. "This is Frankenstein, isn't it? Why are you trying to kill him?"

"Aris," Frankenstein acknowledged as she turned her wide, almost manic smile towards him. "Long time no see."

"Frankenstein!" She exclaimed and skipped over to him, clinging to his arm and pulling him closer with her inhuman strength. "I've missed you!"

"Did you?" He asked, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his mouth, closed-lipped, but it was a kiss nonetheless. Frankenstein's skin crawled but he was able to endure it. With her it never went beyond that, so it wasn't so bad. However, Crombel was an entirely different story.

Aris nodded. "We all did. Since you've been gone, things haven't been the same. It's just all those ugly people swarming up the place, talentless fools, thinking they can match up to your brilliance, much less mine. Ah." She sighed rather dramatically. "It's exhausting to be in the Union sometimes, and ever since Crombel became the Thirteenth Elder, he's been breathing down our necks even more. It sucks."

Frankenstein blinked. "Crombel became an Elder?" He saw Yuri twitch from the corner of his eyes but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Yes, isn't that unfair?' Aris sighed again and untangled herself from Frankenstein. "We've been strapped for someone with your natural talent – you know, as amazing and intelligent as I am, I don't have the aptitude for biochemistry like you. Seriously, our biochemical weapons lab is gathering dust and cobwebs right as we speak."

"Huh," Frankenstein said, tilting his head. "If you guys aren't researching chemical warfare, what have you been up to in the past few years?"

Aris gained a twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, it's something even more wonderful. The Fourth brought in this old man who taught me how to manipulate memories and completely rewrite personalities."

Old man? Suddenly, in Frankenstein's mind, a face emerged from the depths of his memories. He wasn't sure, but it could possibly be only one person. "Lagus…Tradio?" He said, more to himself, as he pondered the implications. If they were starting to share their powers with the scientists, that was certainly bad news.

"You know him?" Aris said, then pouted as she realised that she did not have exclusive access to Lagus Tradio's talents. "Ahhh, I should have known. The golden boy of First always got preferential treatment."

Frankenstein smiled. "I only know him because he fucked with my head."

Aris snorted. "Well, yeah, we all did." She tapped the side of her skull with her finger. "I have holes in my memory that I cannot explain. If I think too long about it, my head hurts – it's obvious they removed something, and did a piss-poor job of it too. Doesn't make you special, Frankenstein."

"And now you're doing it to other people? You messed with Takeo's memories?" Frankenstein asked. He hadn't known that even someone as into the Union ideology as Aris was not spared mind-wiping and memory tampering, but then what had he been expecting?

"Oh, so you've met that child?" Aris clapped her hands and leaned forward, lips curving into a completely different kind of smile. "Mind explaining what happened to Krans and the others?"

"I tore him limb to limb," Frankenstein said, returning Aris' look with one of his own. It did the trick because she drew back, pale-faced.

"You didn't," she said, teeth set in a grimace. "I worked so hard on them."

"I did."

Annoyance flashed through her eyes as she digested his proclamation. Then she turned away with a huff and shoved past Yuri to stare at the scenery below. "This puts me at such a disadvantage. I can't work with a broken unit, so I'll have to discard those two remaining pieces and start over. I hope you know how much loss you've caused me, Frankenstein."

"Well, you don't have to kill them. You could give them to me?" Frankenstein said, approaching her from behind and placing his hand on her shoulder. She turned around with an inscrutable look on her face.

"I could," she began, squinted her eyes and then grinned. "Does that mean you'll come with me? Do you want to come back to the Union?"

"I don't know about the Union, but I can certainly go with you, if you want."

This time when Aris hugged him, he wasn't surprised at all. He wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her close, placing his chin atop her red hair and looked straight at Yuri. The thunderous scowl on Yuri's face made all of this worthwhile. Almost, that was. At least now he would be able to get to Takeo and Tao before they were seriously harmed, and then he'd take care of both Aris and Yuri as quickly as he could and return home.

Too bad he was going to miss the dinner tonight after all.


	18. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankenstein's grasp on his humanity is tenuous at best nowadays.

There, under the harsh yellow lights, Tao and Takeo looked even more washed out than when he'd seen them after he was done killing Krans. They were tied up in an enclosed room, pushed against each other and visibly bleeding from various open wounds. Frankenstein clenched his hands out of sight. He was far too late.

"Ah, yes, them," Aris said, putting her fingers on the window that separated that room from the corridor they stood in right now. "They thought they could _escape._ " When she pulled her away, the glass was smudged.

"Did they?" Frankenstein asked mildly, earning him a sharp glance from both Yuri and Aris, but neither of them called him out on it.

Aris' hand tightened over his elbow as she pulled him away to their room, and Frankenstein wasn't foolish enough to let his gaze linger on the two piteous figures he'd left behind. They hadn't noticed him; they were barely conscious, and Frankenstein had a hunch that they might have been subdued by poison which only made this rescue attempt more difficult. If it was normal poison, he could take a chance, use his newfound contacts at Scotland Yard, or else Raizel might end up stepping in and Frankenstein did not wish for that.

"Frankenstein." Aris turned to him once they were in the room and Yuri had shut the door behind them, the lock clicking into place with a quiet sound. "You've certainly been rather naughty, haven't you?"

Frankenstein smiled. "I tried."

Aris took a seat and crossed her legs, looking up at him without losing any of the ground. "I'm surprised you were able to kill Krans. That guy no longer resembled a human by the time we were done with him."

"That's assuming he was human to begin with, Aris," Frankenstein said, taking a seat in front of her, not at all intimidated.

She raised a brow. "Are you saying he wasn't human?"

"I'm not saying anything." Frankenstein said, spreading his hands and laying them on his knees. He might have discussed it with Aris if Yuri hadn't been here, because while he could trust Aris to stir up shit, he couldn't afford Crombel finding out.

Aris' face was cold now, eyes narrow and mouth twisted. She wasn't pleased by his answer. "I assume you are here to release those two?"

Frankenstein did not say anything.

"If you come back with me, I'll let them go," Aris said, cutting straight to the point when it she was convinced that Frankenstein wasn't going to make the first move. That was always her weakness: always so impatient and confrontational when it wasn't entirely necessary.

"Come back where?" He asked, a little wearily.

"Back to the Union," she said, matter-of-factly. "I know you won't receive a warm welcome. Not after what you have done, but you can become my slave. I'll take good care of you. I mean, yeah I'll have to mess with your memories a little and fix that rotten personality of yours, but that isn't exactly a loss now, is it?"

"And you assume I'll just go along with that?" Frankenstein suppressed his laughter. It was odd, sitting here and discussing things with Aris in this manner and not feeling the dread he'd always associated with her.

"If you want those two to live, I assume you would."

"I could just as well kill you two and be done with it."

Aris' smile did not diminish. "You could. If you were able to kill Krans, I have no doubt you can reasonably wound both me and Yuri and escape with Tao and Takeo, but," she raised her finger and shook it. "What good would corpses do for you?"

"You poisoned them." Frankenstein realised. "Actually poisoned them."

"Yes," Yuri was the one who spoke now, and the press of cold metal at the back of his head spoke of Yuri's proximity. "We gave them poison to test how well their bodies fare against it. I have to say, it has been a disappointment so far."

"But they were your precious experiments, were they not?" Frankenstein asked, trying to understand why Aris would abandon those that she held most dear. If she could even feel that kind of emotion, it would have to be directed at the DA-5.

"Faulty parts just cause breakdown in the entire machinery. An infection will rot your flesh if you don't excise it from the wound." Aris leaned forward, eyelashes fluttering in the most innocent expression she could muster. "Without all the set pieces, Tao and Takeo are no more than pieces of trash for me. But even garbage has its uses."

Frankenstein felt cold all over. "You used them to lure me."

"A happy coincidence," Aris declared, clapping her hands together as if Frankenstein had puzzled out the problem she'd set out for him and was happy with his answer. "You think the Union has overlooked the activities going on in this area? First M-21 and M-24 fell off the radar, then Jake and Marie died. You have _no_ idea how pissed Crombel was over that. I mean, sure they weren't worth much, but they _were_ Union operatives. If they'd fallen into wrong hands, we'd be answerable to the higher-ups for our fuck-ups."

"You—" Frankenstein stood up, annoyed, and Yuri promptly pulled the trigger. The bullet caught him squarely in his shoulder and Frankenstein went down with a strangled yelp, clutching at the blood that poured freely from his wound. The pain seared through his body, painting his vision red and black as he struggled to gather himself up. He knew it would heal, the pain would stop sooner or later, but that was what made the situation worse.

Yuri and Aris would _know_.

"I hope you didn't damage him too much," Aris said, displeased, and ran her fingers through her fiery hair. "Tie him up with the other two so he can watch them die. When they are dead, we'll depart for the headquarters. It's high time I got myself a promotion."

"Yes, doctor Aris," Yuri said, pleasantly, and brought down the butt of his gun hard against Frankenstein's temple.

It wasn't enough to knock him out, just enough to daze him long enough that Yuri was able to secure his hands – nothing his newfound strength couldn't break with a little effort, but this was the fastest way to get to Tao and Takeo and get them the help they needed, so he was willing to endure it. Yuri grabbed him by the hair, pushed his foot down hard on Frankenstein's quickly healing wound and crunched it under his heel. It still hurt and Frankenstein gritted his teeth, much to Yuri's satisfaction as he started pulling Frankenstein back outside by his hair.

It was a slow and arduous journey, painfully because Yuri was pulling his entire weight by hair alone. His scalp tingled and burned from agony as Yuri walked on. When they were at the entrance of the room, Yuri let go of his hair to unlock it, and then he grabbed him by the neck and hauled him inside. Frankenstein wondered if it wouldn't have been better to simply risk being shot in the head if it meant he could kill Yuri before he'd time to do all this. Still, there was no point in wondering about it _now_. Yuri had already left after depositing him in the room. He also locked the door and walked away without sparing as much as a backward glance.

Frankenstein sat up and broke through the ropes, shredding them with little effort. His shoulder was all but healed, though his shirt was drenched all over with blood. His scalp still prickled from the mistreatment earlier and he spent a few seconds rubbing it and smoothing down his hair.

"Dr. F?" Tao asked quietly, stirring from his stupor as he noticed movement in front of him.

He was glad that they were still alive, awake enough to talk, because that meant he could still save them without intervention from Raizel. Possibly. Frankenstein considered himself a positive man. "Don't talk," he spoke in a hush and got behind them, nimble as a cat. He tugged at the ropes that bound them to pillar; they frayed under his touch without chafing any skin and Frankenstein wrapped his arms around both Tao and Takeo, hauling them off the floor.

"Preserve your strength," he told them and they complied, resting their heads against his shoulders as Frankenstein evaluated his options. He could kick the door down and walk out, but that meant he'd have to risk getting shot, or worse, getting one of _these two_ caught up in the fire. He should have killed Yuri when he'd had the chance, but berating himself wasn't going to help. Knocking down the wall behind them was also going to cause a lot of commotion and attract unwanted attention. Not for the first time, Frankenstein wished for Ragar's handy powers, or just for Ragar to come pick him up.

He sighed, shifted his grip on the two men in his arms and tried not to feel too alarmed by how cold and clammy they felt. He wasn't going to let them die – he _wasn't_ , because if he did, what use would be obtaining all this power?

He kicked the door down and dashed across the corridor, careful as he could be to not jostle his charges. Tao and Takeo for their part were struck speechless, clinging hard to him. He heard the sound of gunfire behind him, and enraged yelling, but he was running faster, _harder_ than any human could so he was able to dodge. The front door of their hideout blew open from the pressure of his kick and he tightened his grip. "Hold on tight," he instructed and leapt into the sky. When he glanced below he saw Yuri's face, eyes blown wide, fading slowly in the distance.

* * *

 

It turned out that they really were poisoned beyond help. He'd rung up Yonsu, who called someone who was able to get them to a clinic with minimum fuss. The doctor didn't seem overly impressed by the bypassing of normal method of admitting patients, but they were the police, and he could see that his help was needed. However, after examining them, his frown deepened from annoyed to concerned.

"How were they poisoned? What was used, do you have any idea?"

Frankenstein shook his head.

The doctor held up Tao's pale arm, pulling back the sleek material of his shirt. It was pockmarked. "I can't tell if it was intravenous or orally administered poison like this. I'll give them some charcoal while we run the tests to see if it's some known poison or just a drug overdose."

Frankenstein bit his lip and allowed himself to be led out of the emergency room by the man who had helped him. He was a severe-looking man, of Korean descent like Yonsu and Sangeen, and did not seem to trust Frankenstein just like the two of them. But he hadn't turned Frankenstein down, and for that he was grateful.

"I'm surprised you don't have a more serious injury for all that blood." He pointed to Frankenstein's ruined clothing. "I see the singe mark of a close-range shot, so it's not as if it's blood splatter from someone else."

Frankenstein pulled at the hole in his shirt, looked at the completely healed skin of his shoulder underneath that and grimaced. He hadn't had the time to change, what with the two dying men on his hands. "Hard to explain."

Something on Frankenstein's face must have dissuaded him from further questioning though it was obvious that he wasn't convinced by the bullshit answer he'd been given. Also, perhaps, because suddenly they were no longer alone in the room. Footsteps echoed on the sterile tiles of the clinic, and when they both turned they found themselves looking at a tired but lovely face. Frankenstein's heart clenched desperately.

"You were late in returning," Raizel said, voice soft and quiet. "I wanted to eat ramyeon."

Despite everything, Frankenstein found himself laughing. "I'm so sorry. I'd meant to return right away."

Raizel's eyes flickered to his bloody shirt and then back to his face, concern shining in their depths, but he did not voice them in front of the present company.

"You know him?" The man, called Lim Taesik, asked. He looked warier than before – understandable because the room had been deserted a few moments ago and now there was a strange guy in it.

Frankenstein did not bother to answer him. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes."

It was a lie, entirely for his benefit, too, because why else would Raizel be in this form if he was actually all right. Frankenstein did not press the point. Taesik opened his mouth again, probably to make another query – entirely justified by all accounts, but severely unwanted at this point in time. They were interrupted yet again by another unannounced arrival. Someone was knocking hard on the doors of the clinic. They all exited the room and walked down the entrance hall with the door bolted shut. It was past midnight, the clinic was closed and the lights were out except in the emergency room, so there was no way this was a patient. That could only mean _one_ thing.

Taesik wasn't amused. "What's going on now?"

"Shit," Frankenstein said. "I should have known that they must have put tracers on Tao and Takeo." Taesik shot him a look. "I was too preoccupied by the fact that they were dying to check for bugs."

"I have so many questions," Taesik remarked, before darting behind the counter and pulling both Frankenstein and Raizel along with him. "But I'll save them for later."

The lock gave under the insistent pounding, revealing both Yuri and Aris when the dust settled. Yuri had his gun out and Aris was carrying whips, causing Taesik to recoil a little and duck under the reception counter. "I don't have a gun," he said in an urgent whisper. He put his arm on Raizel's wrist and pulled him closer. "Please stay calm." Probably trying to convince himself of the same, too.

Frankenstein found it interesting that out of the two of them, his first instinct was to protect Raizel. He hid his smile in his arm and tapped him on his shoulder. "Look after him, and whatever you do, don't look out there. I'll take care of this."

Before Taesik could raise an objection, Frankenstein had vaulted over the counter and landed in front of Yuri and Aris, dodging the shot that the former fired at him right away. In the next moment, he was right in front of them before Yuri could fire a second shot. By the shocked look on his face, Frankenstein could tell they were not expecting that kind of speed or movement from him – their loss, not his. His fist connected with Yuri's face with a satisfying crunch which sent him flying backwards, toppling over the ramp for wheelchairs and into the garden. Frankenstein watched his trajectory for a few seconds only, before he'd had to defend himself from Aris' electrified whips. He ducked and swiped her legs from underneath her, or tried at least. She hopped over and swung her knee forward, hitting him in the face.

He fell backwards, but recovered in time to grab the swing of her leg and pull her forward, toppling her. He had her by the throat before she could hit him again and got rid of the whips out of her hands before they could hit him by knocking hard on her wrists. She made a small cry of pain and dropped them immediately, unable to withstand his strength.

Her neck was slender under his fingers, so breakable and fragile, and the look in her eyes was terrified. Despite everything, Frankenstein felt like a monster – even though he knew the kind of person she was, it couldn't be denied what he'd become. Her ashen face drove the point home incredibly well.

However, before he could loosen his hold over her, someone collided into him, knocking him off balance and making him let go involuntarily. Frankenstein staggered back, taken by surprise by the fact that it was, in fact, Takeo who'd done that.

"What are you doing?" He asked, befuddled. "You should be resting."

"What are _you_ doing to my sister?" Takeo demanded instead, shielding Aris' collapsed form with his body. He was still dressed in a hospital gown, his face was pale – paler than it should be, and his legs trembled from the effort of holding himself upright.

"Your sister?" Frankenstein asked in disbelief before everything slid home. He shot Aris a dirty look which was returned in full measure. Then:

"Takeo, please help," Aris cried out, clutching at his leg and putting on her best distressed face. "Save me, Takeo."

"Teira," the word tumbled from his mouth, full of sadness and concern and Frankenstein _knew_ , exactly how horribly she'd manipulated him. Anger cleansed his mind, grounding him and giving him purpose, all guilt forgotten.

"Takeo, I know it would be hard to believe me in this situation, but ask yourself: why is she here?"

"How the hell should I know? How is that a reason to doubt my own sister?" Takeo demanded, flinging his arms out to keep her out of sight.

"She is Aris, Takeo, not your sister. I should know – I've worked with her for years," Frankenstein said, not unkindly. He did not step back either, did not want to in case she hurt either of them.

"Is that your idea of joke, Dr. F?" Takeo growled.

Frankenstein heard another set of footsteps: Tao had also joined them, so that meant that the detoxification was successful and their lives were saved. However, he'd wished that they'd been laid up for five more minutes. He was also aware – could see Taesik and Raizel leave the cover of the counter from the periphery and were watching the drama unfold in front of their eyes. The doctor had also joined them. That just meant more people Aris and Yuri could hurt, or giving Raizel more chances to step in.

The dark power he'd bought from his victims crackled within his palms, burning his skin and leeching warmth from – he'd use it if he had no other choice, but he'd rather _not_ hurt Takeo. "Do you really think your sister could randomly come here, and with him, to boot." He jerked his head in the direction of the gardens where Yuri still lay, knocked out. "And carrying those?" He pointed at the whips.

"I—" Takeo took note of all he'd been pointing at and paused, considering. Doubt was beginning to surface in his eyes, his earlier confidence faltering and he stepped back a little. He turned to look at Aris, full of questions.

"Brother, I've also been forced to work for the Union and given those drugs that enhance your strength. Forgive me, for not telling you before," Aris was saying, still clutching at Takeo's leg. It nauseated Frankenstein.

"Teira," Takeo whispered, anguish deep in his voice and crouched down to hold her.

It was no use; Frankenstein was going to have to go through Takeo to get to her as much as the idea disgusted him. He clenched his fists, and she noticed it right away because she got her hands back on her whips in a flash and wrapped them around Takeo's neck.

The only upshot of the situation was that she'd turned off the power before she did it so that it did not instantly paralyse or kill Takeo, but the threat was _there_ , and it effectively immobilised him.

"S-sister?" Takeo mumbled, pulling a little at the tight whip around his neck. He made no other move to dislodge her, however.

"You're not good enough to hold him off, Takeo, so I have no other choice but to do this. He won't risk me killing you, so I don't have to worry anymore." Takeo's eyes widened as Aris kept talking. "Yeah, sorry to disappoint you, I'm not your sister. It was just a fun diversion at work, to experiment memory altering on people before we do it more large-scale. You were very much duped, so it was fun to continue like that."

"That can't be true," Takeo said. He was shaking again, but for an entirely different reason this time. Frankenstein wanted to wipe it off his face if he could, wanted to murder Aris for it, but his hands were tied. All he could do was watch.

'Yeah, it isn't," Aris sniffled for a moment, before her hold on Takeo's neck tightened. "Yeah right, that joke has run its course. Frankenstein," she addressed him directly this time. "You are coming with me, whether you like it or not. Or else I'll kill off this piece of trash."

Tao's gasp was loud in the room.

"You're coming too," Aris told him, voice full of viciousness. "I'll dispose the two of your by my hands _properly_ this time." Her heart had enough poison to fill the earth and Frankenstein felt malice stir inside him. He could no longer see the victims of others, he'd given that up by absorbing all of his into his body, but he was still sensitised to the presence of the paranormal. They were _here_ , calling for blood – her blood, and every nerve inside Frankenstein's body was urging him to fulfil their request, even if the cost was Takeo's life.

To let go of his humanity to take revenge, yet again.

But then Takeo made the choice for him. He'd grabbed Aris' arms, not to dislodge her but to keep her from running away. "I get it—" His voice was thick and heavy. "I'm sorry, you should just kill the both of us together while she's still here."

"What?" Aris exclaimed and tried to choke him harder so that he would let go. Takeo's face went redder than before, veins popping up on his forehead as his eyes bulged. He was going to die if Aris kept this up, and yet he refused to let her go. Frankenstein had had enough. But before he could do anything, something whizzed right past his ear and struck Aris in the temple, right where Yuri had kicked Frankenstein before. Her eyes rolled up as she clutched at the side of her skull, going down like a felled tree. Frankenstein turned to see Tao right behind him, armed with another paperweight from the receptionist's counter and his brow furrowed.

"Good job," he told Tao, nodding in acknowledgment and went to Aris and Takeo, separating them and then pushed the black mass of energy inside his palms into her open mouth. She gagged on it for a few seconds before going completely still. After that, he grabbed Takeo by the elbow and pulled him away. Takeo went with him obediently; limp and unresisting as if his life had been sucked out of him. The angry red marks of Aris' whip were thrown in sharp relief when Frankenstein got a closer look, and he had to avert his eyes. This was his fault.

When he turned around he saw that Yuri was picking up Aris' unconscious body and putting it over his shoulder. "Sorry," he said, raising his hand in a defensive gesture. His face was swollen and his right eye had shut, but he was able to stand up right and carry her as if it were nothing. Frankenstein guessed that he'd taken some drugs to compensate for his lack of power. "I have to go now. It was nice meeting you all."

Then he ran away. Frankenstein made to chase after him, but then he remembered that both Tao and Takeo needed help. He could always kill those two later, even if it risked letting the Union know about him. He could not abandon these two a second time. He would risk exposure and pursuit if it meant he could take away the pain sunk deep into the lines of their faces, the shadows under their eyes and the sorrowful twist of their mouths.

But of course he could not, so he'd stay with them and take care of them as well as he could.

"Frankenstein, let's go home," Raizel said to him then, placing his hand gently atop Frankenstein's shoulder.

"Okay. Let's go, you two," he said, in turn to Tao and Takeo who looked up at him incredulously. "Yes," he nodded. "You too." He waved to Taesik and the doctor, smiling apologetically. "I'll pay for this later, sorry!"

This time they followed him without question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lim Taesik and the unnamed doctor are both from KSA in the manhwa. The doctor being that guy who takes care of Yonsu and Sangeen. This has been the canon cameo for this chapter.


	19. The Necklace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything he touches turns to ashes. Just as well, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!

It was almost morning by the time they'd all managed to settle down and tucked into their respective beds. The Lord and the others had offered to clean up after him, which had come as a relief to Frankenstein who wasn't used to having people taking care of things for him. He had wished to explain things himself, but he wasn't going to refuse their generosity. Besides, he did have more pressing concerns.

Such as Raizel.

He had stayed beside him while he patched up Tao and Takeo, offered them clean clothes and offered them a room to rest. They were quiet, mostly, and did as they were told. Frankenstein did understand and gave them privacy and space they deserved. When later they were willing to talk about it, he was going to be there for them all the way through. Once they had settled in, Raizel had quickly disappeared upstairs while Frankenstein cleaned up the living room and the kitchen. He wiped down the counters at least four times, fingers clenching and unclenching over the damp cloth in his hands. It did not help, so he put it aside and stretched: the sun had already risen while he was busy sorting out his brain. Shaking his head, he set the kettle to boil and leaned against the counter to watch the morning sky. The dark purples were already dissolving into warm blues and the mist was slowly receding as far as his eyes could see.

The kettle came to a boil and he prepared the tea, then poured it into two cups and straightened himself. It was time to go talk to Raizel, as he'd already put it off for far too long.

Raizel's room was bathed in semi-darkness, the light of dawn not yet having reached here fully. Raizel was standing at the window, half-obscured by the fluttering drapes as he gazed out of the window with his back to Frankenstein. In their association up until now, Raizel had never felt as remote as he did right now. Not even when he'd been a wraith barely existing inside a dilapidated castle.

Frankenstein set the tray down and then took a seat at the coffee table, gazing at Raizel silently, _waiting_. He was rewarded not two minutes after, when the aroma of fresh tea became too much for Raizel to resist. He turned away from the window with a sigh and took a seat next to him, picking up the cup and taking a sip from it. Something melted inside Frankenstein at the sight of it, but he still felt cold all over despite that.

"I am not angry," Raizel told him after a couple of more sips.

"I know." Frankenstein swallowed. "You aren't angry. You are _sad_."

Raizel did not say anything, confirming Frankenstein's worst fears. He picked up his tea and clutched at the warmth seeping through the ceramic. It didn't warm him up at all. He realised he was trembling and there was no relief.

"I'm not sad because of what you did," Raizel said, softly. He raised his eyes to meet Frankenstein's, unfathomable but gentle. "I'm sad because I was too weak to prevent you from making such a decision."

"It's not your fault." Frankenstein was emphatic in that at least. "It was my choice. For myself. Call it atonement if you will, but I owe them _something_."

"The souls need to be released from their torment and sent to the afterlife," Raizel said. "But you've already set destiny in motion, and there's little I can do about it right now." He sounded pained enough to make Frankenstein wince. "And I don't know what you've offered them in return either."

_It has nothing to do with you_ , Frankenstein wanted to tell him. He refrained, however, and instead took a sip of cooling tea. "There is nothing you need to expend yourself over. Just," he shrugged. "Take care of yourself for now because I'm not entirely helpless."

"But at what cost," Raizel said, setting the empty cup down. He stood up once more and walked back to the window, mouth drawn in an unhappy line.

"Will you not forgive me?" Frankenstein asked eventually, staring at the dark liquid swirling in his cup, virtually untouched once Raizel had left the table. Helplessness clogged in his throat.

"There is nothing to forgive when it comes to you, Frankenstein," Raizel said. He turned his head slightly to let Frankenstein catch the look on his face, to let him know that he meant every word he said. "The one who is beyond forgiveness is me."

"Please don't," Frankenstein said, panic fluttering inside his chest. He hadn't meant to cause this. Hadn't meant to make Raizel so sad he could barely stand to look at Frankenstein. He got up, knocking his knees into the table and then taking a few unsteady steps towards Raizel. Only to stop short a few inches away from Raizel's back, wondering if he still had the right to touch the other so unreservedly with his tainted hands. "This is _my_ choice. My will. You have nothing to do with it."

Raizel's shoulders drooped a little, but he said nothing, and Frankenstein couldn't bring himself to reach out and bridge the few remaining inches between them. He stood there, in total silence, for a long time as all the good and happy memories of the past few months shrivelled up inside him, leaving behind blank and hollow despair.

Trust Frankenstein to ruin the only good thing in his life. Once again.

* * *

Frankenstein set his alarm for five in the morning, and then he turned around in his bunk, drawing the thin blanket up to his chin and tried not to shiver. He had lived through worse in life, even at the age of thirteen, as an orphan, but the streets did not make him claustrophobic. Trapped here inside this six feet by six feet room, with one bunk bed shoved into a corner that was too cramped for his upcoming growth spurt felt suffocating.

The child below him was just as quiet; he'd stopped whimpering and crying quietly into his pillow a few months ago, knowing now that it did nothing to help. The cheap, fluorescent lights glared up ahead, providing little cover and privacy. They would be turned off eventually to maintain their circadian rhythms, but the Organisation relished in making them as uncomfortable as they could. Frankenstein had realised that, and realisation had been the first step in conquering the demons surrounding him.

"'s cold," the child below said, misery colouring his tone.

Frankenstein didn't reply for a long time. His clock ticked away relentlessly next to his head, and when the hands touched midnight, the room was suddenly plunged into an abrupt, complete darkness. Frankenstein waited for a space of five breaths, before he peeled away his tattered blanket, bunched it up under his arm and climbed down. Once there, he placed his hand over the child's forehead gingerly, grimacing when it turned out to be too hot to touch.

The child tossed restlessly, tears still clinging to his lashes, even in his sleep. Frankenstein took a deep breath and then covered him up with his own blanket and climbed back up to huddle in a corner. He'd have to wake up before the alarm rang and take back his blanket, so that meant less sleep, but that was just how things were. He couldn't afford getting discovered sharing his blanket with his… _friend_ , or else he, too, would be taken away.

Frankenstein couldn't afford to lose more than he already had.

* * *

The classes had started to become monotonous: the teachers were unable to keep up with the progress Frankenstein and the others made – clearly not cut from the same cloth as the children the Organisation had abducted. Their teaching methods were deeply flawed too, Frankenstein realised, the deeper they delved into the curriculum, and while most of them were wise enough to keep it to themselves, Frankenstein lacked that tact. As such, he spent most of his school time being punished. So much for fostering talent, Frankenstein thought, disdain bordering on amusement as he scraped the dirty canteen floors.

If he'd been by himself, he'd have run away long ago, but he felt somewhat responsible for the little boy in the bunk below him, shivering and crying at nights, calling for his mother. Frankenstein's fingers clenched around the dirty rag in his hand and he glared at the clock on the wall. The classes would be out soon, and everyone would flood the canteen, undoing all of Frankenstein's hard work. Ever since Frankenstein had started speaking out, the floors around the facility that housed them had become squeaky clean. Frankenstein would have been _proud_ , if he wasn't so annoyed by everything else.

The bell rang then, and Frankenstein stood up, wringing excess water off the rag into the bucket by his side. He went to place it in the closet, shut it, and handed the keys to the janitor before he went to wash up for lunch. Well, he _hoped_ he'd be allowed lunch today considering that the teacher had only been somewhat irate and not completely livid.

When he returned to canteen, it was full to bursting with children in the same drab uniform lining up at the counter to receive the gruel the Organisation pretended was nutritious replacement for food. Frankenstein took his own tray and went to the end of the line, completely unsurprised to see his roommate hanging at the fringe of the queue.

"Late again?" He asked, mouth quirked in half a smile.

His roommate blushed a little. "I wasn't feeling that well and fell asleep in class. The teacher was most displeased."

"You should get that checked out, Tesamu," Frankenstein told him, not unkindly. "It's been two weeks since you caught the flu."

Tesamu rubbed his nose with his sleeve and looked sheepish. "At least I am not spreading it around, so it can't be that bad."

"But it's also not getting better. I can hear you sniffle at night – it's most annoying."

Tesamu clutched at his tray, ducked his head and mumbled an apology. The matter rested there, because Frankenstein knew better than to push him now. Tesamu would go see the doctor because he figured he was inconveniencing Frankenstein, and that misunderstanding was worth it.

Tesamu was slender for his age, always a little too shy and frail for Frankenstein's liking. It made him think of the child – only a couple of years younger – as a brother, as _family_ for Frankenstein to protect. So he did it in the way he knew best, while keeping a distance so that he would not be used against Frankenstein.

So he would wrap Tesamu in his blanket, opting to go without one because his days on the street had toughened him up. He would wipe Tesamu's tears when the boy would be asleep, with gentle fingers and enough warmth to drive away the persistent chill of their lodgings. In and out of class, he would make sure that Tesamu was safe and well-fed, and healthy, while keeping as much distance as he could.

Even when they switched facilities, and they got access to better teachers – an improvement on the previous lot, though by no means perfect – Tesamu was still allowed to room with Frankenstein, even though their friendship had always been tentative at best on the surface. Frankenstein sometimes wondered if that was the case, but could never decide just what degree of paranoia he wished to settle on.

Time passed regardless, and Frankenstein shot to the top of their class, and then beyond with little competition. The crowd inside the facility dwindled: the lesser being relegated to menial jobs off the facility, being sent to other parts of the Organisation, but Frankenstein always had the niggling doubt that they weren't just repurposed into other jobs, but rather –

Tesamu still stuck with him, despite not being as brilliant as Frankenstein just yet, though everyone recognised that the potential was there. For that, Frankenstein was grateful. Despite the awfulness of their situation, it was better for him to be where Frankenstein could protect him rather than somewhere else. Of course, by now Frankenstein had become fully immersed into projects for the Organisation, and started relishing in the power he'd been allowed, the sheer leeway provided because of his capabilities.

If he felt any remorse at all for potentially playing with the lives of others, it was drowned out by the joy of being so successful in every single thing he did. He could feel the balance of power shift and he revelled in it, every single day.

Finally, when Frankenstein was seventeen, they had finished culling the new recruits and only a handful of them remained, their time to graduate came near. Now, Frankenstein knew that they'd lived so far on a remote island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and escape from here was virtually impossible. However, upon their graduation, they'd be transported to the mainland and then to the main base of the Union operations.

And that small window when they'd be stopping in transit would be when Frankenstein would make his escape. As much as he'd enjoyed his time here, having food, clothes and a shelter, and as much as he didn't care about the ethics of what was going around him, Frankenstein had no desire to submit to an evil organisation that exploited orphans and robbed people of their children to raise an army of scientists. With methods as ineffectual as the ones he'd gone through personally. It would be such a waste to fall in the hands of masters as ridiculously unfit as them, and Frankenstein had far too much self-assurance to do so. So he collected all the information about their travelling plans and made plans of his own, feeling only somewhat anxious about his re-entry into the outside world after four years of absence. Still, if he managed here, he would be fine _out there_.

According to the plans, they'd sail from their current location next month, and land on the cost of a tropical island in the Indian Ocean sometime around the month after that, where they would wait for a chartered plane that would fly them all the way to the Caribbean where the Union operated from. All the new recruits would be held in a metal cage, like penned feral animals while they were on land, only let out when they would be safely aboard the plane. Frankenstein had seen the metal cages that would be used to cage them: they'd arrived with their last shipment of food and amenities from the mainland. It was some kind of alloy that was resistant to most corrosive chemicals, but Frankenstein was a _genius_. He'd managed to concoct a formula in relative secret, thanks to his increased privileges, and modified one of the strength enhancing pills they handed out to the staff around the facility. It was poison, but Frankenstein reasoned that there would be no gain without some gain.

Now, the only issue that remained was the involvement of human element within his plans: that was to say, his fellow graduates, especially Tesamu. Ideally, he'd have rescued them all, but he knew that if they all departed in one large group, it wouldn't be long before they'd be all caught and put back into the cage. He wasn't going to leave them behind, of course. But he'd decided that he'd only allow Tesamu to follow him to a safe place, and then he'd draw attention to himself and lead the Union mooks on a wild goose chase so as to avoid getting Tesamu caught. It wasn't a perfect plan: too many variables, too many what-ifs, but not having been outside for such a long time, Frankenstein knew he'd have to improvise a lot.

And Frankenstein was _good_ at improvising.

* * *

Even the best laid plans tended to go awry, and this had been a hare-brained one at best. It went good as far as getting everyone out of the cage. They had been left around luggage, so Frankenstein hadn't wasted any time breaking through the metal bars. Afterwards, he'd instructed everyone to run off separately, and he had taken Tesamu by the hand and rushed towards the nearest thicket he could see.

He would have preferred an urban landscape, but they had made port next to a thick tropical forest, and the nearest spot of civilisation was a few miles away, from what he could see or gather. Which meant he needed the cover of night, at the very least, to lose himself in the city. Except, their bright hair stood out like a sore thumb. He wondered if he would be able to borrow a couple of hoodies when they finally made it to the town.

"What are we doing?" Tesamu said, quiet and soft, fingers clutching his very tightly. "Where are we going?"

Frankenstein placed a finger on top of his lips and shook his head. "Let's get a bit further in before talking."

Tesamu obeyed. They navigated the humid rainforest, hand in hand, getting farther and farther away from the beach. About two miles in where the trees were at its thicket, almost not letting any sunlight in some patches, that Frankenstein deemed it a safe spot to take a breather. He handed his water bottle to Tesamu and went to sit down on a gnarled root sticking below a tree.

Tesamu looked around before taking a few sips out of the bottle. He recapped it and handed it back to Frankenstein, and Frankenstein did not miss the way the boy had made sure to not take too much water. Tesamu joined him, sitting next to him, legs tucked close to his body and started trembling a little. It made sense that he was terrified, after all, and Frankenstein had to resist the urge to comfort him.

"Don't worry, it's almost dusk. We'll start moving as soon it gets dark. You know how to reach your folks when we reach the city?"

"Yes," Tesamu said and hunched over himself. "I feel a little sick."

"It'll be over soon," Frankenstein said. He didn't tell him he would be fine, because he didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep.

"Where would you go?" Tesamu asked, raising his pallid face to pin Frankenstein with a worried gaze.

"You don't have to worry about me." Then: "I'll try to disappear into the city for now. You just get yourself to a phone booth and call your home, okay?"

Timid fingers wrapped around his sleeve. "Will you be okay?"

Frankenstein nodded, too weary to shake him off for now. Just for now, he'd tolerate it.

* * *

Tesamu placed the speaker on the cradle and then stood quietly in the booth for several long moments. Frankenstein stood a little ways away, trying not to intrude on what must have been a stressful moment, but also full of relief. Know that he was no longer alone, no longer lost – going back home. His heart clenched in happiness and he bit on his lip, hoping that Tesamu would never have to spend another night crying into his pillow, covered in threadbare blanket that barely gave him warmth.

He had no idea what Tesamu's parents looked like, but considering the kind of child he was, Frankenstein imagined them to be warm and kind, with gentle eyes and hands. To raise a child so innocent and sweet, they could only be kind and loving – nothing like anything Frankenstein had ever known. It did not matter. He was happy for Tesamu.

So when Tesamu stepped out of the booth, eyes red-rimmed and stuffed nose, Frankenstein finally gave him a smile and patted his shoulder.

"I hope you can get home soon."

More tears slid down Tesamu's cheeks and he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Frankenstein asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and backing off a little.

"For going home," Tesamu said, voice wobbly with tears.

"That's a good thing. Don't worry about it. I'll see you sometime, okay?" He lowered his hoodie over his face, waved at Tesamu and walked away, hoping the best for him. His hand trembled a little when he pulled it close to his body, but at least he had not let Tesamu see it.

When he turned around the corner, he took a deep breath and prepared himself to get away from here. But first he needed to draw attention to himself so that Tesamu could escape unscathed. Even if he wasn't a good person, he at least wished the best for Tesamu.

Sighing again, he tugged on his hoodie and decided to just walk in a random direction that he felt something prick at his neck. He reached back on instinct, only to find a metal dart embedded in his flesh. He stared at it for a few moments, uncomprehending, and then he turned around to see who had fired it.

"You should have just gone home," he told his assailant, clutching at the thin metal dart in his hand. His legs turned to jelly underneath him and he slid to the ground, the world spinning around him, unable to control his limbs. "What did you shoot me with?"

"I'm sorry, I really am," Tesamu told him, holding the gun that had fired the shot. His hand was completely steady, even though his face was splotchy with tears. "If I had a choice, I'd have made the one you wished for."

Tesamu's fingers brushed his cheek even as Frankenstein's consciousness faded. And at last, Frankenstein could not tell what his friend, his brother was thinking as the Union operatives closed around them.

"'s okay, Tesamu," Frankenstein told him, trying to hold the thread of his consciousness in his hands desperately, speech slurring against his will. "Don't blame you."

Afterwards, he didn't remember much. If Tesamu had said something in reply, he either did not hear it or did not notice. When he woke up, he was inside a dark prison. And when all of his memories returned to him, Frankenstein spent the next fifteen minutes laughing until his throat hurt too much to continue.

Because clutched in his grip was Tesamu's precious necklace and his fingers were sticky with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback isn't really complete, as you can tell, but I can't quite explain why or what happened just yet. That comes later, so if this chapter feels a little disjointed, that's the problem. What happened to Tesamu? Well, Franken doesn't wanna talk about it quite just yet...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that it took me so long to update, and then with an update like this...lol.


End file.
